Star Trek: Imperialism
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: Sequel to BHOP. Sela has taken over the Romulan Empire, and war drums are being pounded across the Alpha Quadrant. However, the Federation, it's strongest faction, is pulling back all it's forces, abandoning allies and it's own borders. Now Picard must make a choice. Obey orders; or fight for survival.
1. The Warriors Path

**Chapter 1: The Warrior's Path**

"This is Captain David Field of the starship _Entranced_," the captain, back straight with a riding crop in his hand said, his thick British accent making him sound more like a gentleman Captain of Earth's Imperialistic Age then a captain of a futuristic society, "Calling Deep Space Seven."

There was no reply. Not anything. There was no static, not even slight pops from the communications often associated with the stationary signals of deep space stations.

Field wiggled his ears, a sign of visible irritation. "Deep Space Seven. This is David Field of the _Entranced_. Respond please."

"Are you sure there is life on board that station commander?" he asked, turning towards the Security Officer.

"All the systems are still running," the minuet man said so small he was having to stand on a box, "They would have shut off if there had been no movement."

He turned back and looked out at the station on the view screen. There were no ships docked at the moment, but, that didn't necessarily mean anything. But, he had to make sure. His family was known for military competence, his father's having served in the British Army since the Hundred Years War on Earth. And he was not about to let down the family honor.

They had been given orders to come here six days ago, due to an unusual silence from the base for a month. They had not sent out any reports, but, there had been no distress signals or anything either to signal trouble. They simply just stopped transmitting. And that was enough for anyone to become nervous. The _Invincible_ would have been dispatched, but, they were currently at Qo'noS. And _Titan_ was heading to Cardassia Prime, bringing back Riker who had all charges of murder dropped and Legate Temar, who was heading to Earth to resume diplomatic discussions of Cardassia joining the Federation. So, the _Nebula-_Class_ Entranced_ had been sent from the fleet massing near Vulcan.

"Can we transport a landing team into the station?" he asked.

"Shields are down," the security officer reported.

Field pointed to the Vulcan science officer. "Servak, you are go with Ensigns Davis and Jellio and go find out what is going on over there."

"Right away, Captain," he said, swerving in his chair and standing up, left the bridge.

* * *

"Gentlemen," Servak said as the two ensigns got onto the transporter pad, "We are going to set our phasers on stun. It is logical to assume something has gone wrong over there. But what it is we cannot surmise."

"Yes sir," the others acknowledged, taking out their phasers and touching the dials on them to put them on stun.

"Energize."

They materialized in the promenade and were greeted by total silence. The humans looked uneasily around, holding out their phasers incase. Servak held up his fingers and clenched them in a fist and at once they fanned out. They began searching the different shops and passageways.

"Landing party to Captain Field," Servak said, touching his comm.

"Reading you Servak," Field replied, "What's the situation over there?"

"Our tricorders are picking up no life forms on this station," he informed him, looking at his blank scanner, "But, we are still going to continue the search."

"Very well," Field acknowledged, "Check the escape pods and try to see to the Commander's personal logs. See if any light can be shone upon the situation."

"Very well sir," Servak nodded, "Landing team out."

"Commander Servak," Davis called out from one of the restaurants.

He jogged up to him and the man pointed. There was plates of food on the tables. But, there were many more on the floors, and two of the tables had been pushed onto their sides.

"It looks like they were either in a hurry to leave," Davis surmised, "or there was a fight here."

"The latter is more logically acceptable," Servak agreed, "But, if there was a fight here, it would seem there was only hand to hand involved."

Davis took his tricorder and ran it over the tables and floor. As he moved, his forehead furrowed further in further.

"Odd," he muttered.

"Please elaborate," Servak ordered, moving up to his side.

"There is no cellular residue on the floor or tables," he said, kneeling by an overturned chair, "There's absolutely nothing."

"Every life-form," Servak shook his head, "No matter how big or small it is, leaves cellular traces of itself."

"I know it's illogical," he conceded, "But, there is nothing here."

A quick glance with his own scanner affirmed the Ensigns' accretion. There was nothing here. It was like they had never existed.

His comm beeped and he tapped it. "Servak."

"Commander," Ensign Jellio said, "I'm at the escape pods. None were launched."

"How about the transporter pads?" Servak asked, giving a glance at Davis.

"They're fully functional, but weren't used since the day before Starfleet lost contact with the base."

"Alright," Servak nodded, "We're going to go to the command center. Rendezvous with us there."

"Understood."

* * *

The Operation Center of the station was just like the rest of the station. Not even a molecular sign of the crew's existence. Everything was in working order though; so they were easily able to get into the Commanders logs.

_Commanders Log: Stardate 63470.44; First Officer Job McCain recording._

_A party of Romulans has shown up at the station. They have requested permission to stay for a week, and it's been given. Beyond that, nothing much more to report, beyond Lt. Gregory Marxxes has had his third litter of pups in the last three months. It is my personal opinion that he should lay off the females of this crew, or else he'll be pregnant all the time and unable to perform his duties._

_"Commanders Log: Stardate 63472.01; First Officer Job McCain recording._

_The party of Romulans has risen to 205. I can't help but notice it's the exact number that a Scimitar-Class ship would need. But, there is no danger. They've been good. _

_Starfleet has assured me that I don't need to worry about Commander La Forge's absence, but, I would be glad to know where he went._

_Commanders Log: Stardate 63473.12; First Officer Job McCain recording._

_Transporters have failed all over the ship, and so have the shuttles. Chief Bennion says there is nothing to worry about._

_Commanders log supplement:_

_The Romulans have turned on us! Most of the crew is dead, and most of the civilians. They attacked during the lunch shift, and they have some special weapons that as soon as they hit, they erase the traces of the person. As if they had never been born. _

_I can't signal Starfleet. Communications are down, and our auto distress signals have been turned off, so we can't even signal for help. Only six of the thirty left have phasers; we didn't have enough time to get to the weapons lockers before they were captured. _

_If you make it and are listening to this, warn the Federation. The Romulans have broken the Treaty. They are…no, wait….stop them!…Give me the phaser…..Stop it you butchers!….AAARRRGHHHH!"_

Jellio hung his head. "Did you know him?" asked Servak, looking at him..

Jellio nodded his head, "He was my father-in-law. How am I going to tell Betsy this?"

"I am sorry for your loss," Servak put a hand on his shoulder, "But, we must alert the Federation or his death was in vain. Commander Servak to _Entranced_."

There was no reply. Not even static. "Servak to _Entranced_," he tried again, "Come in please."

Jellio and Davis looked up at his, their faces showing anxiety. He turned and pushed a button and the view screen turned on. The _Entranced_ was still out there. Or, at least the ruined hull of the _Entranced, _slowly spiraling in the vacuum of space, small chunks of metal and bodies surrounding it. Davis gasped and Jellio had to clutch the desk to keep from collapsing.

"How could this have happened?" Davis groaned.

"It would appear as if the Romulans never left this region of space," Servak replied.

And almost as if to agree with him, three Romulans suddenly materialized in Ops as they were transported aboard.

"Set phasers to kill," Servak ordered and quickly followed his own order.

The Romulans had barely finished materializing before they were hit by phaser fire. They all fell over simultaneously, and Servak turned to Davis, "You have served aboard this station before, am I correct?"

"Seven years ago," Davis nodded, "I left before McCain arrived."

"Is there a place we might be able to avoid the Romulans?" he asked, "Until we can get out of here and send a message to the Federation?"

"Engineering," Davis lit up, "Follow me."

With that, they ran to the Jeffery tubes, opened up the access panels, and entered. They barely closed it before a second detachment arrived. They were trapped on a Federation space station, surrounded by the enemy.


	2. Enemies Among Us

**Chapter 2: Enemies Among Us**

Benjamin walked down the corridor, Doctor Bashir by his side. Bashir threw furtive glances around them as they walked, doing nothing to make Ben feel any better about the situation. Odo had gone to regenerate, and hadn't come out of it, despite the fact he was six hours overdue. Then again, he had been avoiding all his friends, something that he rarely ever did.

"Will you stop that Doctor?" Ben demanded as Julian threw another glance up at the ceiling, "It's very annoying."

"Something is wrong," he muttered, looking now at the lights, "I can feel it."

"Feel what exactly?" Ben asked, throwing him a curious look.

"Like someone is watching us," Julian replied with a side glance, "Almost a malice following us."

"You have been paranoid ever since Garak got back," Ben laughed, "Are you not sure that you are simply reacting to that?"

"Something Garak once said," the Doctor said anxiously, "Is that when the Obsidian Order worries, be on your guard."

"We have nothing to worry about Doctor," Ben shrugged his shoulders, "we are perfectly safe. If Dummat's killers had gotten on board, we would have found them by now."

"But he wasn't Dummat," Bashir protested, "He was…..Romulan."

Ben turned towards him and his mouth dropped open. "What do you mean by the man was Romulan? You never told us what he actually was until now."

"I didn't find out myself until last night," Julian explained apologetically, "Garak slipped in on Romulans being good looking like Cardassians."

"You did an autopsy man!" Ben exclaimed, "Why didn't you realize it then?"

"That's the problem," Julian said in an impatient voice, "I never did an autopsy. The body was gone by the time the meeting with Picard and Ross was over. Garak swore he didn't take it, and for once he was telling the truth."

"I don't like puzzles Julian," Ben grumbled as they continued walking, "Especially ones like this."

"We might safely say that Romulus has sided with the Dominion," Bashir grimly said.

"Not necessarily," Ben said, "For all we know, it might be another one of their games."

"I hope so," Bashir muttered to himself, "For all our sakes."

_"The Sisko is in danger."_

_Ben turned and looked for whom ever it was that said it, but in the haze, all he saw was distorted shadows. Shadows that were blacker then black one minute, then the most violent red he had ever seen next. Sounds of dying creatures reached him, and he whirled around and saw a Prophet, in the form of Locutus of Borg, standing in front of him._

_"The Sisko must not fear the immediate future, but the immediate past."_

Ben started back in reality and turned around behind him, to look for anything.

"What is it?" Bashir asked, grabbing his arm, "What?"

"I just had a vision," he said in a breathless voice.

"A vision?" Julian repeated in concern.

"Let's get out of here now!" Ben shouted.

They turned and ran down the corridor. But, they barely had gone three steps before they were both grabbed around their necks from behind and thrown backwards. They lifted from the ground and flew flailing until they crashed onto the floor.

Julian recovered faster than Ben, but not enough to dodge the blow from the fist as it made contact with his face. He fell backwards and Ben tried to back up, but the fist transformed into a sledgehammer and made contact with his leg before he could get far enough away.

He felt the bones in his leg shatter like glass against a cement floor, and he screamed in pain. He didn't have much time though as the hammer came swinging back down. He barely scooted far enough away to barely avoid losing his manhood.

Julian quickly tapped his badge and shouted, "Security to Deck 8! We have changeling intruders aboa-" but he was cut off as a fist made contact with the side of his head, right by the eye socket. He was sent flying into the wall, and with stars exploding in his head, he was knocked unconscious.

Ben, unable to stand, tried to back away, but the hand transformed into a rope and lashed around his neck and tightened. It became so tight that it made escape impossible.

Now, finally, after what had seemed forever, the changeling finally took total form. He took the usual dull, expressionless, genderless features of a changeling. But, there was nothing expressionless about this creature. His eyes were alight in a fierce flame, and his mouth was twisted in a cruel smile.

"Benjamin Sisko," the changeling said, his voice showing he was actually male, "The Emissary of the Prophets. Captain of the United Federation of Planets. Father. Husband. Councilor. Lover. And warrior."

He laughed coldly and Ben struggled against the cord, but, the more he resisted, the tighter it became. He felt much like a fly in a spiders web. Allowed to move, but not leave until the spider came calling.

"Your reputation as a warrior proceeds you," the changeling scoffed, "The entire Gamma Quadrant fears you. The Dominion has been humbled by you. The Federation admires you and the Klingons are honored by you."

"And yet, I caught you with only the slightest difficulty," he said in mock pity, "What a waste of such fame. Such talent."

"Why not kill me now and flee before Security arrives?" Ben gasped out.

"They shall not come," he smiled, "I destroyed the Good Doctors' comm-badge when I threw you both. They have no idea you are here. And he shall not wake up for exactly two hours and twelve minutes. My blows were aimed to ensure that."

"Then what do you want with me?" Ben gagged, "Why keep me alive?"

"We are going to Cargo hold 4," he replied.

"Why there?" Ben asked, red spots appearing in his vision.

"You shall see," the Changeling smirked and Ben felt himself fall into the warm forgetfulness of sleep.


	3. Plots

**Chapter 3: Plots**

Benjamin awoke in the cargo bay, surrounded by boxes, his hands and legs tied by strong cords. Not the changeling, who was standing with arms folded and leaning against some crates like a drug dealer from old Earth. But, he still couldn't move, and the changeling smiled triumphantly over him.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded.

"I'm here to kill you, _Captain_," he spat the word out.

"That can't possibly be all," Ben shook his head, struggling against the cords, "Otherwise you would have done so already."

"I won't until I have gloated a bit," the changeling agreed.

"You're not a nice changeling," Ben said, hoping to force out of him information, even if no one would hear.

"Niceness is something only humans try to do," he responded, "Klingons aren't nice. Romulans aren't nice. What makes you think we should be?"

"We have a treaty," Ben reasoned, "One that ended war."

"Do you seriously think we retreated just because of you forced us?" the changeling demanded.

"That's usually is the reason for such things," Ben shrugged his shoulders.

"We fell back to regroup," he laughed, "Not to cower. Now the whole military might of the Dominion is ready to attack. We have done away with Ketracel-white. Obedience is now perfect, absolute."

"You never will succeed," Ben angrily responded, "We will stop you again."

"With the Romulans at our side," the changeling smiled, "We have already neutralized all your starbases patrolling the Neutral Zone. Your DS7 has fallen. We have taken over the government of the Romulan Empire and the Federation Council has been replaced with changelings."

"You will put up a valiant fight," he pressed his nose up to Ben's, "And you might hold us off for a while. But once our allies from the Delta Quadrant arrive, you _shall_ fall. Even now your Odo is being followed by a changeling, with orders to kill his _beloved_ Kira. He had neutralized your sensors to save her. You cannot stop us."

"You certainly won't leave this room alive," Ben snorted in derision.

"Oh really?" the changeling laughed, "Why is that?"

"Because," Ben smiled, "Cardassains aren't nice."

The changeling whirled around as the top of a crate was kicked off, and Garak sat up, roaring as he pulled out two disruptors and let the changeling have it. The changeling stumbled and shook as the bolts of energy struck him, but he was not going down. He slowly began to move towards Garak, holes appearing in his body. He would be unable to change shape.

Garak aimed and fired at Ben, catching the metallic cords and shooting them apart. Ben was grateful Garak had been a member of the Obsidian Order, or he could never have made that shot without so much as looking.

He looked around, and saw a broken metal bar. He picked it up and rushed the changeling, who was reaching towards Garak, who had rolled up and out of the crate and was still shooting him. The changeling was refusing to die.

He came up and rammed the bar through his chest and the changeling fell to the ground finally, looking at him shocked.

"You set me up," his gasped and Ben nodded.

The changeling slowly melted away, never to rise again.

Ben held out his hand to Garak, and pulled him up on his feet.

"Thank you," Ben said, clasping him on the shoulder, "I never thought I would need to use a member of the Obsidian Order."

"My dear captain," he replied, "I am not a spy. I am a tailor."

Ben rolled his eyes. Never tell the truth when a lie will suffice.

"Blasted Changeling drained the cells on both," he growled, tossing the disruptors aside.

"Well," Ben shrugged, "We can get more."

* * *

A week had passed, and despite their best efforts, they seemed unable to catch the other changeling. Finally, Kira called Ben, Julian, Garak and Chief of Security Kevin Gilles to a small meeting in her office. She was not happy.

"For all we know," she exclaimed, standing in her anger and slamming her fist on the desk, "Is that Odo has a changeling forcing him to do stuff he knows is wrong. We need to catch him before he does more damage!"

"This changeling is good," Garak admitted sourly, "In all my years of being a tailor, no one has been able to get their hands so dirty and I miss it."

"As a tailor?" Julian asked, leaning towards him, "Or a spy?"

"My young, over imaginative doctor," Garak hit his arm lightly with the back of his hand, "You never cease to amaze me with your crazy ideas."

"This is no time for jokes gentlemen," Gilles chided them angrily, "We have two changelings on board committing sabotage and we can't even find a trace of it!"

"And who freaking knows?" Kira exploded, throwing her chair over in anger, making Ben wince in sympathy towards his old friend, the chair, "They could have disabled more than our sensors! What about our weapons? Our life support? Gravity? You can rig it so these things can shut off at any time under any circumstances."

"And don't I know it?" Garak leaned back and looked at the floor in front of him, his eyes widening in memories of sabotage he had personally committed.

"The real problem here," Ben said slowly and calmly, "Is we have grown way too complacent. We took the Dominion at their word, and so disabled most of the detection devices we had installed to find changelings if they ever got back on board."

"What we need to do then is set them back up," Gilles replied, "We could get this whole station so covered even a spider couldn't crawl without our knowing."

"As a spy once told me," Bashir said, "Never tell the truth when a lie will suffice."

"Come again?" Gilles asked, raising a condescending look at him, in a how-dare-you-interrupt-me? sort of way.

"If we started setting up these devices," Bashir reasoned, "it would raise their suspicion. However, what we need to do is get him where the devices are already there."

"Bait him?" Kira asked.

"Bait him," Bashir nodded.

* * *

Odo walked down the promenade towards the turbo lift which would take him Operations. His feet felt like lead, and his heart was heavy. He knew he was a coward, had betrayed his friends, who had done more than enough to save his own person.

How sad he was for Kira. She had so much to offer him, and would willingly do so, but, he couldn't. To show her that affection that had made their love so unique and genuine. It could never be, and he knew it. He reached the lift, and said, "Ops."

The turbo lift jolted slightly before smoothing out as he rose. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"What is it Odo?" a monotone voice behind him asked.

"I don't want to do this anymore Dracon," he said, not looking behind him at the changeling that had scurried on as a mouse, "I feel sick inside for betraying my friends."

"Friends?" Dracon asked, "They never came looking for you. They never even tried to reach you. What type of friends could they possibly be compared to the Link?"

"They have honor," he replied, "Something the Founders can never understand."

Dracon chuckled behind him. "I will admit," he said, "Such things as loyalty and fidelity escape me. But, I understand power, and the needlessness for so many people to die. You are saving them Odo."

"Huh," he scoffed, "Doesn't feel like it. Why must I do it to her?"

"Everything you do for us," Dracon said, the sounding of melting sounding his transforming back to his previous form, "Is a planet you have saved from destruction. Think about that as you wallow in self pity. She cannot stand in the way of your usefulness."

"I refuse to do it," Odo snapped, "I have done sabotage to my home, and betrayed the trust of my old comrades and love. I will not do this."

The turbo lift shuddered to a stop, and he hesitated. The room had been vacated except for security officers, carrying phaser rifles. They stood at every console, and every door and vent. Perhaps he wouldn't have to carry out the deed.

He walked forward, going towards Kira's office. Two Bajoran guards stood outside, at attention. They had their phasers held in both hands, point downwards to the ground. They took no notice of the spider that was crawling along the wall.

The door slid open to the office and he walked in, and to his immense relief he saw Benjamin still alive. But, he could not let his emotions show. That would prove fatal to all involved. If Dracon was angry, he could not tell.

Behind the desk sat Kira, who was showing signs of controlled anger. Did she suspect something? And beside her, standing, was the chief engineer, a man by the name of Tyler Rand, son of Janice Rand, a woman who had served as yeoman to James T. Kirk. He didn't look in a good mood either.

"Captain," he nodded in greetings, "Captain. You summoned me?"

"Yes Odo," Kira said, "You knew about the assassination of Dummat before it happened? Correct?"

"I knew he wasn't the man he claimed to be," Odo corrected.

"My mistake," she said, "May I ask a question?"

"Certainly," Odo shrugged his shoulders.

"How did you know all this?" she asked, "You never said how you knew. And on second thought, how did you know when to be on the _Titan _and how did you arrive and meet up with Garak?"

"The Dominion has spies in the Alpha Quadrant," he said, "such as our listening posts are spies for us."

"That would be enough for me," Kira said, "But, things have happened today that makes me question your reasons for being here. At DS9."

Odo brows furrowed in confusion. "As in?"

"Today," Ben said, at the nod of Kira, "Doctor Bashir and myself were attacked in the corridors. With the help of Garak we were able to kill the changeling. But, he said something very odd. It seems someone has been tampering with the station."

"In what way?" Odo asked.

"Let me see," Rand growled, holding up a data pad, "Over the past month our sensors ability to detect has been cut back to the point that we can scan no more than a thousand meters correctly. Beyond that point, all we get is false readings. Our weapons drain energy seven percent faster than should be. Internal sensors have been reprogrammed to block out certain portions of the promenade during certain parts of each day."

"That does sound serious," Odo agreed, knowing that if he had sweat glands he would have started sweating by now.

"That's not all," Kira said, "We have also picked up two transmissions from the station that head towards the Gamma Quadrant. Guess where they originated from?"

"Are you implying something Captain?" Odo asked, raising an eyebrow, "Because, this is not funny."

"Believe me," Kira said, her voice icy cold, "It's not at all."

"Another thing the changeling mentioned was there was two of them on board," Ben said, then touched a switch, "And we will get him now."

The room was flooded by ultraviolet light. They looked as his body's mass fluctuated slightly underneath the bombardment. All they would have to do is wait and see the change of where the changeling was. But, to their shock, he was nowhere to be found.

"Where could he have gone?" Ben demanded, "He was suppose to remain close enough to keep you at heel."

"Dracon would have heard you and made his escape into the Jeffry tubes," Odo volunteered, "He would have gone through the one over there, if he was smart."

"That's where Garak is," Kira said, and they rushed over to the Jeffry tube hatch.


	4. Assassin's Creed

**Chapter 4: Assassin's Creed**

Garak had been given no time before the changeling was upon him. The phaser he had been carrying was knocked out of his hand and he was knocked onto his back. He was soon bound in hard cords and dragged at massive speeds down the Jeffry tube. The grating would soon rub the his skin raw and then he would start to bleed fiercely.

Luckily, despite his long absence from the Order, he was not to be taken without a struggle. He was able to dig out of his pocket a small knife, small enough that the changeling would not notice what it was, and even as he was jolted, began cutting at the rope. It was hard enough not trying to cut himself, let alone work effectively, without being waked against walls as they continued down.

In his haste to escape, the changeling was so focused on this one task, it did not realize until the last second as he kicked open the door to the crag hold, that his cords were about to be totally severed until he lost his hold on Garak.

He whirled around as Garak leapt forward, tucking his head to bowl him over. Dracon merely liquefied around his midsection, and the huge Cardassian went flying through him and crashed into some barrels that toppled onto him. Garak immediately began to rise and shove the barrels off of his body and was no sooner up then he was grabbed by the arm and thrown against the far wall, hitting his back hard. He hit it upside down and bounced off because of the impact and fell head first on the ground, stars exploding in his eyes.

He settled onto his stomach, and slowly raised himself up, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. The changeling had turned itself into a ball of fire, and Garak was still too stunned to full dodge the flame, which blasted past his elbows, sending searing pain through his arm. He stood and stumbled backwards, turning to the changeling which had changed to a Targ.

"You got to be kidding me," Garak exclaimed as the Targ charged him, head bent down, horns sticking out towards him. Garak's foot came sideways and made contact with the beasts head, sending it spiraling into a crate.

The changeling transformed now into an android that looked like Commander Data and he ran forward. He went for a left punch, then a right punch, then an uppercut. Had he been the real Commander Data, he could have been going so fast that Garak would never have seen it. Garak, however, was actually quiet skilled in Cardassian martial arts, and he fended off the Changeling with great ease. Garak dropped to the floor and swung his leg around, taking the changelings legs out from under him. Then, with the changeling still on the ground, he pulled out a dagger he had special made to kill changelings, and he stabbed, barely missing the changelings heart but catching him in the arm.

The changeling screamed as that part of his arm charred and fell away, leaving a gap where he couldn't regenerate for at least an hour. Garak slashed again, but his aim was wild, and he only cut through the back as the changeling rolled out of the way. The changeling cried out and jumping up he ran, turning into a bird then wheeled around, and came dive bombing at Garak, claws extended in deadly intent.

* * *

Doctor Bashir, although he was still heavily bruised, staggered down towards the cargo bay. He had eavesdropped on the conversation, and had heard of Garak's disappearance and remembered using the Jeffry's tube and ending up in Benjamin's office. And he remembered it could come out at the cargo bay.

His friend was in trouble, and he would help him out as best as he could. The doors to the bay were only twenty meters away, but, he was so tired, and every step he had to fight to take. But, he gladly fought to reach those steps, for he would not abandon Garak.

* * *

Garak struggled to stand, and as he did so, he kept his fist clenched and his dagger ready. Blood poured from both nostrils, his eyebrow was torn and his lip had split, causing blood to streak down his lip and chin. He backed away from the changeling in front of him, struggling to breath, but was not able to turn around fast enough to catch the other changeling who had a metal bar in his hand from smashing into his back.

He dropped to his hand and knees, screaming to give himself the extra strength to swing the knife's blade at the front changelings' leg. His chin exploded in pain as the creature brought that foot up, straight into his chin. His body sprang up from the sheer force, and he was too stunned to avoid having his arms grabbed and forced behind him in a crossbar.

The front one, which looked like a Klingon, punched him hard in the gut, but Garak responded by lifting both feet off the ground and kicking hard, throwing the thing back. He then planted his legs and threw his body forward, tossing the other changeling onto the floor.

He took his dagger and stumbled forward, and dropped to his knees, and slashed and hacked at the other changeling, the one who had taken him from the back. The changeling struggled to escape but each twitch and movement was met with an equally swift slash of the blade. The changeling grunted and moaned as he slowly shriveled up and turned to dust and ash.

He threw up his head and roared in triumph, and staggered up to face the last changeling, who used his arm like a whip. The end snaked around his leg and pulled it out from under him and he fell onto his back. The dagger flew from his hand, but it was caught by the changeling, who stood and tying Garak's arms and legs with his own arm, dragged him up to his feet.

"You would have made a good Jem'Hadar had Fate wished it to be," he laughed, "And now, a God must judge you. And that God judges that you should be stopped from progressing further."

Garak spat in his face. Defiant to the last. The changeling slowly drew his hand with the blade back then plunged it into his gut. The blade was icy cold and froze as it pierced his gut. Garak gasped as the changeling then turned the blade in the gut, then pulled it out, intestine being pulled out as well. Blood poured from the wound and Garak fell, spasms of pain shooting through his body.

Neither one had seen Bashir open the door, but he saw Garak fall. "No!" he screamed and tried to rush the changeling. He reached him and threw a punch, which caught the changeling in the chin, but the changeling backhanded him so hard he fell backwards.

Julian struggled to get back up but was just too bruised to go fast, and the changeling grabbed him and lifted him from the ground and raised him over his head, finger squeezing his throat shut. Julian gasped for breath and the changeling sneered, "Isn't it wonderful? To die defending someone else.

He threw him on the ground, and as he fell, the bloody blade slashed Julian through the stomach. He fell on top of Garak's legs, holding his gut in and screaming bloody murder.

"Good day and good bye," the changeling laughed, and ran out of the cargo bay. But, he made sure to close the door and seal it shut first, leaving the two alone. To die alone.


	5. Negotiatons

**Chapter 5: Negotiations**

Legate Lebran Temar sat back, a hand up to his chin. He would have asked the question closest to his heart at the moment, but, as he looked at Ambassador Sanchez of Earth, he knew he must not ask such a question. To ask such a thing would destroy these so called "Peace Talks." He could have cared less, but, his masters wished him to continue these discussions, so he would.

"Our offer is on the table," Sanchez said, pushing the data pad in front of him over to the small Cardassian, "All you have to do is look it over and tell us what you think of the arrangements."

Lebran picked up the data pad from before him and looked it over. It was simply an overview of what had been talked about for admission to the Federation.

Each planet that entered the Federation took upon themselves the solemn duty to place their resources for the common good. They would keep back nothing but the bare minimum of what it would take to keep that planet in the lap of luxury. Technology would also be provided, to further the fields of science and medicine.

What these Federation fools failed to realize is just how little was going on. They thought that they were dealing with Cardassia. Cardassia did want to be accepted into the Federation, but, the motives behind his masters were to further the work along. The almighty work that consumed his every thought and waking moment.

These negotiations were only the instrument to bring about the brighter future.

"Listen Ambassador," he sighed, "I realize just how much this means to both of our peoples, but, I am not sure my people are ready to hand over technology to the Federation just yet."

Sanchez scratched his chin before replying, "It's not as if we are asking you to hand it all over immediately. You must realize though that if the need arises for such things, you will be expected to do so willingly. For the good of all involved in the Federation."

"And if we need assistance?" he asked, "Will you give it to us?"

"Of course," Sanchez reassured him with a big smile. The problem with this politician, Lebran realized, is unlike most politicians, this one wasn't practiced at being polite and cordial. He really was that way already. Then, almost without notice, Lebran twitched as a telepathic order came through his mind, _The time has come._

"Then may I ask a question?" he asked.

Sanchez nodded, "Of course you can."

"Then where was the Federation when we needed help rebuilding our infrastructure?" he accused, "Where were you when our people starved and died from their hunger? Where was your people when mine were scrapping for enough money to live in bombed out shelters?"

Sanchez faltered for a second. The discussion had turned in a single instant from nice to mean. He could play mean. But, he didn't want to. He could talk everything better. He was, after all, an ambassador, and that's what they do best.

"If I may remind you," Sanchez forced himself in, "Your people never asked for aid. We cannot do anything unless you ask for it."

"Or," he glowered, "Was this no more than a Federation plot to expand their borders?"

"The Federation has no imperialistic policies," Sanchez assured him.

"Oh really?" Lebran asked, "What about Bajor? The wormholes near Bajor and Betazed? What about your expeditions into the Delta Quadrant? Have you not even allied with the Borg and the Ferangi?"

"Bajor wished to join," Sanchez retorted, "The wormholes just happened, and you know full well the explorations into the Delta Quadrant were just for exploratory purposes. And what about your own views?"

"What do you mean?" Lebran snapped.

"Is not joining the Federation just for the freebies that come with membership?" Sanchez asked, "From reports we have received, your people have not done anything to improve their situation for six years. You have been even at some points been pushing back the clock. And why? I think it is because if you do, then the Federation will come in and you won't have to work as much."

On second thought, Sanchez could be nasty if he wished. Lebran closed his eyes and said, "Perhaps we should have a recess until tomorrow. Then, we will be in a better mood to discuss the situation."

Sanchez nodded. "Tomorrow then."

Lebran stood up, gathered the data pads in his arms and walked out of the room. When the door closed behind him, a small grin played across his lips. The time had arrived. The Invasion was about to commence. And those that served faithfully and loyally would be rewarded with kingdoms and thrones.


	6. Spies Among Us

**Chapter 6: Spies Among Us**

"Thank you," Chakotay said, sitting down on the chair in the living room of the Paris home, "But, you really didn't need to do that for me."

"Nonsense Chakotay," Tom said, pushing the box across the table towards the Indian, "Me and B'Elanna are grateful for the assistance you gave us."

"It was no problem," Chakotay replied, "I am surprised though that Cardassian voles got into your home clear on Mars Colony."

"I have no explanation either," Tom said, then indicating the box said, "Aren't you going to open it?"

"What is it?" Chakotay asked.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Chakotay. It's a _present_! I can't tell you."

Chakotay smiled and picked it up. The box was small and white, with a lid on top. He pulled off the lid, and inside was a meditation stick from the Arapahoe on Earth. It was long and narrow, a feather tied to it by a skinny piece of leather.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, feeling the smooth wood under his fingertips.

"I had a friend from Earth called Charley One-Heart," Tom said, "He was a really great Arapahoe. He passed away last year and he gave me a couple of items. This meditation stick was among them. B'Elanna meditates but she never uses it, but I have no use for it. I thought you might like it."

"Thanks," he said, "But, I am Mayan. Not Arapahoe."

"Does it really matter?" Tom asked incredibly.

"Well, Mayans and Arapahoe are as different as Humans and Klingons," Chakotay explained, "Yes, we have the same type of bodies and same feelings, but our histories are so different and our legends and stories are very different. It would take weeks to go over it all."

"Perhaps one day we can talk about it," Tom shrugged, "But, I have to get to a conference with Janeway and the rest of the old crew at Denver."

"Really?" Chakotay asked in surprise, "Why wasn't I informed?"

"Well," Tom said, shrugging, "This doesn't really involve you."

"I don't care," Chakotay said, "I want to come."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Tom said.

"Why not?" Chakotay asked suspiciously.

"It is last minute and you didn't bring your uniform," Tom reasoned, "And you need your uniform for this meeting."

"I didn't have one when I joined the crew either," Chakotay responded, "It wasn't a problem then."

"I still think it wouldn't be in your best interest to come," Tom said.

Chakotay frowned slightly. This was a little bizarre. Why wasn't he invited? He had been a key member of the crew. Then why were they barring him.

"Well," he sighed and stood, "Thanks for the stick. I think I'll leave then."

Tom stood and they gave each other a hug. How far they had come over the sixteen years they had known each other. How could they have seen this sign of friendship between what was once two people of opposing views?

"It was good to have you here Chakotay," Tom smiled.

"I was glad to have come," Chakotay nodded.

* * *

Chakotay had waited outside in the apple orchard near the house until Tom had transported out of his house to his meeting. He sighed and whipping the sweat from off his brow, he walked briskly back to the house, and finding that Tom had failed to lock the door; opened it and headed over to the transporter pad that Tom had installed in his bedroom next to his bed. If some disgruntled or fanatical worshipper of the _Voyager_ crew tried to break in the house, it made a good getaway. And that had happened before.

And besides, even after all these years, his lust for his wife had not abated, and neither had hers for him.

He checked the transporter log and instead of the coordinates being in Denver, they were in Austin, Texas. That seemed odd to the Native American, who couldn't fathom why Tom would lie to him about their meeting place. From the looks of it, he had beamed to the massive yet abandoned theater near the Austin Public Library, one of the few public libraries on Earth still being used.

He pushed in the same coordinates and felt the washing feeling of the transporter beam as it transported him from Mars Colony to Earth.

Within second he was standing in a dark hallway. The side lighting had been busted by vandals and the paint was peeling from the wall. The carpet had been worn down, to the point that it was more wood then carpet he could walk on. Tubes and cables hung from the ceiling, like guts from the stomach of a gutted deer.

He turned his sharp eyes one way, and then the other, and to his right down the hall, he could hear movements of many feet. He couldn't see anything, except for light peering under a closed door. He stepped forward, and he smiled as the old floor boards were surprisingly firm. But, even as he stepped forward, the smallest sounds of creaking could be heard from the floor. But, it wasn't enough to draw attention to him.

Soon he was at the door, and he could hear voices now. Many people talking at the same time, greeting each other. Sounded friendly enough.

_Well_, Chakotay thought to himself, _I guess I will surprise everyone and come in anyways._

He lifted his hand and reach for the door, but, just as his fingers touched the cold metal, a hand snaked around his mouth and clamped firmly on his lips and a strong arm pinned his hands and arms to his chest. He struggled but despite his physical well-being, he was unable to pry himself loose.

"It would be unwise," an aged voice whispered in his ears, "If they were to learn you were here."

Chakotay bent his head ever so slightly, and he caught the very tip of a pointed ear from the corner of his eye. The hand relaxed a bit around his mouth and he turned to see that it was a Vulcan, aged beyond years, wisdom in his eyes, commanding respect with just his presence and Chakotay's mouth dropped open and he said, "Spock?"

"Ambassador Spock of Vulcan to you," Spock said, the man the best type of legend, a living legend, "Now, we shall merge."

He took his fingers and splayed them across the side of Chakotay's face. The tips of the fingers pressed gently into the skin, and Spock began to murmur, "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are merging. Our mind are one. Telepathy is no more than a shadow, thrown up by the closing of the mind. Open your mind, and hear the sounds of silence. The whispers of shadows. The thoughts not spoken, yet said."

Spock gentle took away the fingers, and like a heavy blanket thrown off, Chakotay felt naked, and reeled backwards, and would have fallen had not Spock been grabbing his arm. His mind was open now, to a new plain of existence. He could feel the thoughts of birds, sense the despair of a young lover spurned in the streets outside. It seemed to him like his time linked with the Borg, a residue which lingered still.

And yet, it was not at all like it. The Collective had felt like the order of gloom, the voices like that of machines. Whisperings, like the whispering of voices you think you hear right before a person falls asleep, but never truly hear them. This, though, was more like unto running outside into the grassy plains, or going to the top of a mountain on a glorious day, or going alone into a forest at noonday, where it is only you and the animals.

But, just as quickly as he was overwhelmed, control came to him. And, he was able to hear voices from behind the door. Wait, he could hear them. But, how was that possible? He could not hear them with his ears. But, they were imprinted upon his mind.

_Tom Paris,_ a voice, distorted almost to beyond recognition, but he knew he had heard the voice before. But where? _Report._

Tom replied, but again, it was through the mind. _But, how is that possible?_ Chakotay thought to himself, _Tom isn't telepathic._

_The Romulans had taken Deep Space 7 and the three neighboring systems with little trouble, _a distorted version of Tom's voice could be heard, _They have sent two fleet into the area, and have followed the Dominion's orders to send a team of seven to Qo'noS to sabotage the supply shipments being sent to the Capitol City. They'll be there in two weeks._

_Do they suspect that the changelings onboard their ships are actually Borg drones?_

_Not that I know of._

_Good. With terror about to be unleashed on Qo'noS, the Klingons will turn in upon themselves to settle the issue. Their civil war will be the first step in the subjugation of the Alpha Quadrant to the Dominion. Now Janeway, report of the status of the Federation forces._

_They don't even realize that the Borg have all but wiped out the independent drones that are fighting for their freedom. The Borg should be ready the invade the Federation in a month. They will use the Betazed wormhole to enter the Quadrant as planned._

Chakotay's mouth dropped open. Kathryn was part of this? Was this a trick? It had to be. He knew her. That was all that could explain this.

_Good, very good. Now, we have a slight problem. Even as we speak, the Dominion's agents on DS9 have sent a coded signal to the Dominion, letting them know they have been discovered. There have been two casualties onboard, and two of the changelings have been hurt. _

_Are the other two dead?_

_Unknown as of now. But, this compromises the plans of the Superiors. The Dominion is already gearing for their attack, which will offset the invasion. They were not to be discovered for two more weeks, so DS9 is not ready yet for the taking. And what is worse, the Romulans near DS7 have destroyed two Starfleet ships. And, a Federation away team is still on the station, having avoided capture for nearly a week now._

_We cannot destroy the weak here unless they are too involved in their own wars to deal with us._

Another mind spoke, but, Chakotay couldn't hear it as several others exploded in anger and surprise. But, after a few seconds, the voice, which he began to realize he had heard once before, in the Delta Quadrant spoke up. _Sit down Neelix! Your body isn't the "spring chicken" it once was, as the humans would say. You have been holding your host body too long, and you know what happens when you start morphing again._

_You are correct, _a distorted voice of Neelix said, and Chakotay's mouth dropped, _I'll get my injection._

A chair scrapped back and there was the sound of feet walking towards the door. Chakotay spun around and Spock motioned towards a room down the hallway. Chakotay followed him as they rushed down the hall, but not so fast that there would be unnecessary sounds. The door had been broken, so they were able to squeeze in and hide in the shadows.

_What the freak just happened? _Chakotay thought to himself, and Spock, hearing it through his mind, replied, _You have just learned the plans of an all out invasion on the Alpha Quadrant, Captain._

_I resigned from Starfleet a year ago,_ Chakotay replied, struggling against the urge to speak out loud. They could hear the sound of feet stop at their door, and Chakotay shrunk further into the shadows. Spock, on the other hand, scooted forward, his hearing better and he must have realized the direction the feet were pointed, for indeed, the door at the other side of the hallway, opened and the feet retreated.

_What is that? _Spock asked, and threw a mental image at Chakotay. An alien, larger than any human, bent, it's head the shape of a oval head, that curved back. It's hands had extremely long fingers.

Chakotay gasped and fell backwards, as suddenly, a voice screamed in his mind, _The Weak Will Perish! _And the great body of Species 8472 burst into the room.

Chakotay didn't quite know what happened next. He certainly didn't remember screaming for the transporter to energize them. All he knew was one minute they were there, about to face off with a member of Species 8472, and the next moment, he was back at Tom's house on Mars Colony with Spock, busting butt to get to his shuttle craft, trying to get away from there as fast as possible.


	7. Fall of Qo'nos

**Chapter 7: Fall of Qo'noS**

The cargo ships slowly lumbered across the landscape. The sun was hidden by grey clouds, which ever darkened, threatening to rain on them. The twenty guards of the ships rode on hovercraft, pacing back and forth, their guns hanging loosely at their sides. No trouble could or would be expected. Not so far in the very center of the Klingon Empire. After all, who would dare fight off twenty thousand heavily armored, kick-your-butt-in-a-second, Klingon warriors?

The captain of the guard sat, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Not only was foodstuff in these transports. But, also items of a more organic, living nature. He just hoped they would get to the capitol city before any unwanted visitors showed up.

"Captain Duras," the head driver called out, "You look worried. What is it?"

"Maybe not anything," he replied.

"You sure?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Let me just say I would be more at ease if these were in First City," he replied, talking about the transports. He did not even so much as looked up when he talked.

"Don't worry about it," the man replied, chewing on a piece of bread, "We'll be there by nightfall."

"Perhaps," he said, standing up, "But, all the same, I would like to be on my guard."

The driver shrugged as he fiddled with one of the controls.

The sun was setting off in the distance. There was still two hours yet to go before reaching the capitol. Everyone was getting anxious. Why were they still this far off? They should be within sight of First City by now. The low hum of the ships were growing louder as night approached and the wildlife went to their holes or nests.

Then, without warning, the ships let out a long, low groan and slowed to a complete stop. There was a bustling of vulgarity as the drivers tried to get their vehicles to start again. Some tried what seemed to be a very old technique which involved slamming their fists on the engine starters and shouting streams of vulgarity.

Then, the guards' hovercrafts crashed into the ground, spilling all of them off them. They were in a jumbled tangle on the ground, and having an extremely hard time extracting themselves from each other.

" Hu'tegh!" Duras shouted as a foot kicked him square in the nose, breaking it, "What's going on?"

A driver looked confused at the mess. This couldn't happen by anything he could reason. It simply did not make sense. It just didn't make since.

Duras got disentangled from the group and walked towards the skiff, holding his nose as blood rushed from the nostrils. "What is the reason for this delay?" he again asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Sir!" a guard shouted, reached for his disruptor, "Watch out!"

But, the warning was too late. His head went flying off as the disruptor fire swept it clean off its shoulders. The man drawing his gun was shot down by a bolt of blue energy, which left a smoking gap where his stomach should have been. Soon, seven Romulans were surrounding the guards. The Romulans laughed, their faces unseen by the long black robes shrouding their faces.

"You didn't see us coming, my pompous Klingons," the leader, who had a larger nose, "Or, is the appropriate name, petaQ? I have never gotten it quiet right."

"I got a name," another one said, "Imbeciles and dumbbells."

The guards were not so easily scared. They at once all pulled their disruptors, but, the attackers were much faster. Most were shot down before they even pulled their weapons out of their holsters, and the few that pulled them out didn't even get a shot fired off as they were racked with disruptor fire. The drivers tried to run, but almost immediately stopped when two of the five were shot in the backs as they run and slammed face first into the cold dirt.

"Now," the leader said, "All of you just sit down and cool off, my fat fellows. May I ask what you have in these ships?"

"Food stuff and clothing for First City," the head driver replied, "Nothing else."

"I am picking up life forms," the black robed man said holding up a tricorder, and when he said that, all the remaining six tensed up. The leader slowly strode up to the leader, and against his will the man was slowly dragged up onto his feet, the man pulling out a knife and the blade was less than a centimeter from his face.

"Did you not say you carry only food stuff and clothing for First City?" he snarled, "Or, are you mistaken."

"Once in a while we transport some of the animals from the rain forests to the butchers in the city," one of the other drivers said, "So in fact, he didn't lie."

"Did I ask you what they were?" the leader demanded.

"No, but I-" the man was shot in the head and the other two drivers looked at the body in shock, looking at the smoking hole where his nose had just been.

"If any of you so much as cough without my asking you too," the leader snarled, throwing the head-driver to the ground, now sniveling like a mangy cur, "You will die."

"What do you think is in there?" one of the other black robed men asked.

"There are intelligent life forms," he said, pointing to the first car.

"I'll check it out," the other man said, and bringing out his disruptor, and cutting a five foot circular hole in the wall with a couple shots. He grabbed the piece with his hands and yanking hard the piece fell out onto the ground, dirt exploding up from the area as the large metal slab smacked the ground. He climbed in and disappeared into the truck. He soon returned with a blank look on his face. The leader looked at him, then watched him fall face first onto the ground. The leader rushed up to him, and saw the hole in his back.

"You have come here unbidden," an calm voice said, "You will find it hard to leave."

A bat'leth was seen and out strode a large man, a Klingon by the looks of him. The leader jumped back and they all pointed their disruptors at him. They knew this Klingon.

"Ambassador Worf," the man sneered, "You have interfered with the affairs of the Romulan Empire for the last time."

"Indeed?" Worf replied, "I have waited a long time for this moment, my stupid pointy eared friend. Your business is an end."

"Indeed, I share your sentiments" he said, "_I _have waited a long time for this moment, my dog faced friend."

Suddenly, the side of the second cargo ship exploded and out jumped a tall human, wearing an Admiral's uniform. In one hand he had a phaser and in the other hand he carried his own bat'leth.

"Admiral Picard," the man said, "You have made a grave mistake coming here tonight."

"No, it is you who have made a mistake," he retorted, and the other three cargo ships exploded and out rushed fifty heavily armed Klingons, aiming their disruptors at them, "And this time, you are outwitted and out gunned, Romulan scum."

The man did not wait. "Get out of here!" the leader shouted as fifty bolts came flying towards them. As they ran they fired back at the Klingons. Seven fell, but three of the Romulans were shot down as they ran.

Worf jumped out and attacked one of Romulans, who turned and swung at the Klingon with the same grace as a windmill. Worf jumped over his head and when he landed on the ground, the man fell with a split open head. Picard took his bat'leth and took down two with quick rapid slashes.

The leader shouted into a comlink he had. At the same time, a large green light appeared and slammed into the ground taking out all twelve Klingons in the lead, vaporizing them. Before they could pursue any further, the Romulans were gone as they transported out.

Worf gripped the bat'leth, "We have done well, Admiral."

Jean-Luc nodded his head as he put his away. "But, those two are still out there," he said, surveying the deaths of over thirty men.

"It will take a long time," Worf said, "before they can cause more trouble."

"I don't get why the Romulans would attempt to take on the Klingons in their own capitol planet," Jean-Luc said, trying to ponder the events and information now thrown into light.

"There is something more going on," Worf muttered, "But if anyone can outdo them, it will be you. Good thing you got called from Ambassador Spock about it."

Jean-Luc nodded in agreement and they turned to the grisly task of looking after the dead and wounded, "But why would Ambassador Spock happen to know about it?"

Worf shrugged, "I do not know Admiral, he did not say how he came across the knowledge of the meeting."

Picard sighed and rubbed his head with his hand. "Let's get back up to the _Enterprise_."

"Agreed," Worf nodded his head.

* * *

Data sat alone in the empty Crew Lounge. No, he wasn't the original Data. His original designation was B-4, but, shortly before Data's date with fate onboard the Scimitar, Data had transferred all memories and personality data from his own positronic net to his "brother" having the foresight and wisdom to do such a thing.

But, this didn't kick in until Geordi La Forge had been able to get an emotion chip created that was almost exactly like Doctor Soong's chip that had been made for Data.

And yet, despite the obvious fact he was not the original, people still treated him like a valued member of the crew. Something he appreciated. And as always, the android's placid, neutral expression still somehow managed to convey his wonder, curiosity and idiosyncratic zest for life.

Picard soon arrived and slumped down onto the chair opposite the android, the concern of his thoughts expressed on his aged face. Data, in the good grace he had acquired over the years, handed a small server and cup to the Admiral, who looked surprised.

"What's this?" he asked, taking the cup and server.

Data smiled as he replied, "Earl-Grey Tea. I've been saving this for you. I've noticed recently you drink some to relax as well as other things."

Picard slowly sipped the tea, smiling as the warmth rushed throughout his veins. "They say a person can become so familiar with another that all a person has to do is throw a look, and his mind and intent is laid bare. I seem to have underestimated your observation skills Captain Data."

Data watched Picard lean back and close his eyes, the weariness not really lifting off his shoulders. How he had never truly wished to become a Captain of the Enterprise, knowing the vigorous and prestige history behind the name. But, his promotion had come sooner or later. And here he was, the only android captain in Starfleet.

"So…" Data drew the Admiral to the issue on hand, "Were you successful at stopping the raid?"

Picard opened his eyes and slowly nodded, "I have to say, this mission had a happy ending."

Picard carefully took another tiny sip, savoring the flavor before finally swallows. How he enjoyed his tea. The joy it brought to him. Data would have mimicked Picard. Taking a tiny sip, savoring the flavor and finally swallowing. But, the last time they had drank together, was the last time the original Data had had any happiness. He almost felt it a taboo to repeat something that ominous.

"Sir," Data said, "I notice you are not totally truthful with me on the subject. The mission might have been a success, but something is bothering you."

Picard sighed, "Indeed, you do know me well."

"May I inquire into what exactly that might be?" Data pressed, "I could guess at it, but, I have also noticed a slight disposition with humans to express such things at their own time."

"A lot of stuff really," Picard admitted, "Romulans have never been particularly daring. But, with Ambassador's Spock's message that we were only able to get the phrase, "…raid on Qo'noS by Rom…" out of a message at least three minutes long is also enough to make me worry. But, Romulans raiding Qo'noS itself? It unnerves me. And I am particularly aware of this feeling because Will Riker still has not been released by the Cardassians. I could really use his counsel right now."

Data raised an eyebrow, "And this makes you 'unnerved'?"

Picard shrugged, "Well. I suppose it does a bit. I'm glad that the _Enterprise_ and _Invincible_ can be here but I'm going to miss Riker if this is just the preliminary movements of a larger conflict. I feel... incomplete without him."

"That is because you know how he reacts under pressure," Data commented, " You can predict specific reactions and behavior and are comfortable in the knowledge of his competence as an officer and a warrior."

Picard nodded his head firmly, "Yes. But, frankly, I have Worf and the _Defiant_ to rely upon as well. The _Defiant_, despite her age, is a tough nut. Especially with Worf at the helm."

He took another sip of tea. And he began to try to work out everything in his mind.

"Seeing those Romulans today made me think about some of the choices the Federation has made that were a mistake during my career," Jean-Luc muttered, "Trying to keep us away from the battle at Sector 001... not being more careful towards the Romulans... Pulling our forces back to only three points in the entire Federation. All the choices that have led us to here. A raid on Qo'noS."

Data shook his head, "The choices made cannot be undone. Only acted against or acted with."

Picard looked Data in the eye and said, "Let us hope that we don't have to act with an aggressor enemy."

* * *

"Captain," the voice of a woman came over the comm system.

"Yes Commander Ter'la," Data replied, "Data here."

"Will you come to the bridge?" she asked, "I think we have a problem."

The two old comrades passed a glance as Data said, "What is it?"

"We aren't sure," she replied, "can you come and take a look with us?"

"On my way," Data said, and the two arose from their chairs and walked out of the room and headed towards the turbo lift.

They soon strode on deck, and walked over to a console, where a Vulcan female, who looked as if she was barely entering her 60's, leaned towards a science station near the science officer.

"Report," Data ordered, and the glacial calm first officer reported, "There is a strangely dense amount of particles that have appeared in the atmosphere of Qo'noS in the southern hemisphere."

"Can you tell what the particles are?" Data asked, looking at the unusual spike in the radiation on the planet.

"Show us the planet of screen," Picard ordered and the obedient crew soon had the planet on screen, but it didn't really show anything, so, he ordered, "Magnify the southern hemisphere."

The view shifted to the lower hemisphere, and a green cloud was steadily covering the sky. Picard's eyes narrowed. He knew this radiation from somewhere. But, where was it that he remembered it from.

"Sir," the security officer said, "We are being hailed by the capitol."

"Onscreen," Data ordered, and the face of Emperor Kahless appeared.

"You Federation petaQ!" he spat, "I knew you disliked us, but, I never knew you would be so wicked as to fire biogenic weapons at our planet!"

"This is Captain Data of the _Enterprise_," the android said, turning and walking up to the hand rail placed a hand on it, "What do you mean? We have not fired on your planet with any such weapon."

"You lying Targ," the Klingon emperor snarled, "Our people are being turned into dust by this cloud! Seven cities have already been wiped out along with all animal life and every plant!"

"Confirm that," Data ordered.

After a short pause, Ter'la replied, "He is correct Captain. All life forms on the lower hemisphere are gone."

"I would inform you it would be in your best interest to start an evacuation," Data informed Kahless, "We will endeavor to find out what is going on."

Kahless cursed and the communication closed. They noted with alarm that the cloud had increased in speed and area by twelve percent and the cloud had by that time completely covered the southern hemisphere and was advancing towards the north.

Picard slapped the rail. "Thalaron radiation. That's it!"

"I concur," Data agreed, "However, I must remind you, only once has thalaron radiation been used, and that was the Romulans."

"But we chased the Romulans away," Picard shook his head.

"Actually," the Vulcan interjected herself, "we were never able to find the Romulan ship."

"Then they could still be here," Picard said in alarm.

"Actually," Data said shocked, "They are."

No one had the keen sight of Data, and as he said that, the ship shook as the ship was hit. Three times the ship was hit, and the ship rocked as the inertial dampeners were taken off line.

"Shields up!" Data ordered jumping over the ramp to his command chair, "Power to all phasers and photons."

"Sir," the tactical officer reported, "They've knocked out shields and automatic firing is offline."

"Switch to manual firing," Data ordered.

"Send out an order to the _Invincible_ and _Defiant_," Picard calmly gave the order, hurrying down the rise to the center of the bridge, "Order them to haul their butts over here now!"

An explosion from the communications threw the communications officer backwards, her hands burned and her eyes blinded by the shattering debris that had cut deep into her pupils. Another officer ran up to take her place and cursed at the damaged console.

"Communications offline," the tactical officer barked, and another explosion sent the Vulcan spiraling over the rail, and she hit the ground at such an angle, her neck snapped, "Sensors are offline too."

"Engineering," Data shouted, "Get us out of here!"

"Can't sir," Chief Nog's voice came back, "Our engines are offline."

"Can you give us thrusters?" Picard demanded.

"No sir," Nog snarled, "Thrusters are part of the engines. We are going nowhere fast."

"Hull breaches on levels 6, 8, 9 and 10. Emergency force fields are in place."

"Gravitation is offline in the mess hall."

"We're losing life support."

"Who are these people?" Picard angrily snapped, "How did they get us with our pants down?"

"Maybe if you kept your pants-" Data meant to joke, but seeing Picard glare, instead said, "We aren't going to win this one."

Right as he said that, the firing stopped. One second. Then two, then ten, then a whole minute passed with no more firing. Picard and Data passed a glance, not sure why they weren't dead.

"Why haven't they finished us off?" he asked.

A signal beeped, "Admiral, you are being hailed. You personally."

Picard sighed. "Onscreen."

The screen flickered, and the face of a human-Romulan hybrid woman with short blond hair was smiling widely at him. She looked with smug superiority at Picard, and there was a loathing in her eyes. As one who has been waiting for a long time for this moment.

"Hello, Picard," Sela gloated, "I just wanted you to know that was for your participation in preventing us from helping the Duras Family back during the Klingon Civil War. I won't destroy you. Not today anyways. I want you to know that I will be at my new base of Deep Space Seven if you want to play the game again."

The screen flickered off and, a ship decloaked, a Scimitar-Class, before cloaking again and warping away, taunting the _Enterprise_ to try their luck again. And below them, they saw the last of the planet disappear under the green cloud, and not a single ship from the surface.


	8. The Siege

**Chapter 8: The Siege**

Commander Servak kneeled on the floor, his fingers circling his palms. His two pointer fingers and thumbs were pressed together, pointing out and in. His eyes were closed, seeing his breath as a white light. He was tranquility, on a sea of chaos.

He, along with Ensigns Jellio and Davis, had been hiding out in the lower Jeffry tubes ever since they had been stranded on the station, nearly for two weeks now. They had neutralized seventeen Romulans, and at the same time had been able to keep supplied and used thoran radiation to block the sensors of the pointy-eared freaks.

Davis had been able to connect their communicators to the communications system, and they were able to eavesdrop on every conversation in the past two weeks any person had been having. One had been so juicy, that while Servak had found it deplorable to hear about the intimate interaction between a Romulan Centurion and his wife, his human and Bajoran comrades had found reason to chuckle and amuse themselves.

Davis had remained with Servak, writing a story on a padd he had procured. Davis stopped his progress, thinking, then turning to Servak, said, "Hey, Servak, I have a question for you."

"If it is about your frivolous writing," Servak grunted, "I must remind you that it is a waste of time."

"It is about it," Davis acknowledged, "But, it helps me keep a clear head. And now, I need a stone cold reasoning when it comes to an idea, and you are about as cold as they come."

"Besides resenting your remark," Servak sighed, and opened his eyes, "I will explore your story idea."

"Great," Davis said, and slid to his side, "So, in my story, the year is 2010 on Earth. And there is a bunch of people who visit a website on the internet, to exchange ideas and propositions. And one of these people happens to be a great writer called Admiral Harmon. And there is this person called Starblind there helping him out. And so, they get this idea to write a story where our universe is invaded by a sphere with the power to destroy a planet, and people who can use powers to increase their speed and fighting ability and can even use this magic to shoot lightning from their bodies and choke people even from across starships."

"I lived on Earth for seven years Mr. Davis," Servak replied, "And even for humans, it is an illogical story. There is no one ever called Starblind and you are stealing Admiral Kyle Harmon's name to make your character. And everyone knows that the greatest author on Earth ever was Mackenzie Calhoun. Not only that, the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant, compared to a Vulcan Deathgrip, and to have the internet would have required much more logic then humans have ever shown. This is what I think of your story idea."

He grabbed the padd, snapped it in half and calmly dropped it on the ground. He looked up and said, "I'm sorry, were you not finished?"

"You're a mean man, Commander," Davis sulked away, "Where is Jellio? He's been gone far too long."

Almost as if summoned, Jellio appeared, holding a phaser rifle in his arms. It looked as if he had ripped it out of a wall. He looked at Davis, who sat grumpily on the ground. Eyeing the broken padd he asked, "Got fed up with your story idea? I told you the sphere was a stupid idea."

"Servak broke my padd," Davis grumbled, then held up his comm piece to his ear and listened to the conversations.

"That's not very Vulcan of you," Jellio said with a mischief smile, "Perhaps I'll have to take you to Risa after all."

"I am a married man," Servak rolled his eyes, "I have been happily married for sixty-two years. Now, what have you accomplished with getting control of the station to our location?"

"I still haven't figured out how you are going to get the entire station to be controlled from a small display down here," he said, "And, to tell the truth, ever five minutes I have to dash away and hide. It will take six weeks at this rate."

"We might not have six weeks at this rate," Davis replied, "Listen. It's Praetor Sela and Admiral Nero, of the Romulan Seventh Fleet."

"….Starfleet feels it has no other choice…." Sela was saying, "the Federation was only at Qo'noS at the behest of the Klingon High Command, and suddenly, seventeen of their systems have been overrun thanks to the thalaron radiation weapons we have."

"No more High Command," Nero, who they recognized by now with his silky smooth voice, "... no more invitation."

"Governments can break off relations with an edict," Sela continued, "It's not so easy when it comes down to people of your level. Take Picard for example. He has worked decades to keep the peace and even has an official standing in the Klingon Empire itself. And Ambassador Worf served years in Starfleet.

"All of us who've served in the Romulan Imperial government have for the past century tried to break these erstwhile allies; we've come to despise what this alliance has done to our dream of Manifest Destiny. I know I do. So, I decided to do something about it. And in just one week, I've broken the back of the alliance."

"You'll be needing someone to oversee the new Klingon provinces," Nero said cheerfully, "I was hoping that perhaps my services had been…"

"I was actually planning on Senar of the Tal Shiar to take control there," Sela said, "Besides, packing up all your medical supplies is going to take quite a long time, Citizen…"

"Are you demoting me?" Nero asked surprised at the obvious mistake in his title.

Sela's voice now came as a snarl, "Before I volunteered, I thought we were at understand what you're in for. We'd be trying to taking over the Empire as long as I would become Praetor... You were hopeful that as long as I was busy expanding the Empire, I wouldn't notice your deception."

"I don't understand-" Nero said, but was cut off by Sela.

"It was only time before I would uncover your deal with the Dominion in all this," she snapped, "It wasn't that difficult really. The sudden increase to our Imperial forces could only have been with the help of the Founders who might not be our blood enemy are still our enemy."

"The Vorta Kilana and The Founders promised to only keep the Cardassian Union and the Breen Confederacy…"

"They would love nothing better than to present my head…" Sela snapped, "and yours... to the Jem'Hadar. I am ordering you out of the army and you are banished to mining. You have families. Oh yes, I know of your infidelity. I also know you have been funneling information to Ambassador Spock. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up actually putting real drones on my ships and not only changelings who don't like changing for us. Now, get out. I mean that."

There was a momentary pause and she said, "Do I have a reason to dismiss you, Tom Riker?"

"No Praetor," a clearly human voice replied, "My life is devoted to you."

Servak threw an unsettled look over at Davis. He had served on board the _Enterprise_ when the duplicate of Commander Riker had an arrived. How could he have turned against the Federation? Wait, he had been with the Maquis. He must believe that he could punish the Cardassians most by joining in this unholy alliance.

Sela continued, "Good. No longer will Picard be safe... With you now as my chief military advisor our families, children have a future to look forward to... I'm sure many of the changeling on board will want to stay with us when we win this upcoming battle. There's a lot to get done. The _Enterprise_ should be up and running in less than two weeks. Then, once we crush the Federation fleet, we will destroy all the changelings in my fleet. Dismissed."


	9. The Sacrifice

**Chapter 9: The Sacrifice**

As Romulans contrived how they were going to carve up the galaxy for their own ends; Elim Garak and Julian Bashir were stuck in the cargobay on DS9. They were no longer lying in their own blood and gore; they had moved to the door, but in their weak state, they weren't going to be able to get out, even if the door hadn't been sealed shut by the changelings. Now, here they were, sitting side by side, Bashir's body slowly sliding down the wall and down Garak's shoulder. In the past hour, he had gone from an upward position with his back against the wall, to slumped against Garak's right arm, his body at a weird angle, even for the agile genetically engineered doctor.

"How much longer do we have Doctor?" Garak asked, his voice weak and blood trickled from the side of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

"I have maybe ten minutes," Bashir said in a horse whisper, "But, in about three or so, I will faint from the loss of blood. You have thirty minutes, fifteen of which you will be unconscious."

"Cardassian physiology is more adapt then humans, that's for sure," Garak replied.

"If I was-a-mere human," Julian struggled to say, beginning to gasp for air, "I-would have-perished-three-hours ago."

"You know what I will miss?" Garak asked.

"What?" Julian asked.

"Our lunches together," Garak stated and Julian nodded his head in agreement.

"They seem to have their hands full," Garak muttered, "We should have been out of here by now. Why don't they just beam us out?"

"Tran-sporters-are-off-line," the human said, "Odo-"

"He's been naughty hasn't he?" Elim muttered, "Doctor?"

"What?" Julian gasped, beginning to lose focus on reality, his blood soaked hands no longer able to stay on his gut.

"What if I had a way to save you?" Garak asked.

"I-would-ra-her-die," Bashir whispered, losing his ability to piece his words together, "Then-gve-u-the-satsfact-ov-saven-me. You'd-must-likly-poson-me."

"Why doctor," Garak exclaimed, "After all our lunches and bantering; after all these years you still don't trust me?"

"No-clzer-thn-I-culd-transport-" Bashir's words trailed off with a slight chuckle and he went unconscious. His chest and head fell sideways and landed in Garak's lap.

"Doctor," Garak said, "There is still hope for you yet."

Garak looked at his dying friend and thought, _He was my only real friend._ _No one had so much respect for me as he did. And now, he will die._ Even as he thought this, phantoms sprang into his mind from his past.

"What's the matter Elim?" Enabran Tain asked, "Feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Not for myself," Garak muttered, "But for the doctor."

"That's not what I've taught you," the Cardassian reproved him, "To be a member of the Obsidian Order, you must not feel any type of feelings, great or small for anyone. It's not good for business."

"But he's my friend," Garak said, "And we are both dying."

"Friend?" Dukat asked, joining Tain, "I had a friend once. Benjamin Sisko, and look what he did me! Best to leave well enough alone. You said yourself that he is dying."

"I believe it was you that did stuff to him," Garak replied, "Besides, I would have done the same to you myself Dukat."

"Really now," Weyoun, the Vorta asked, appearing on a crate, sitting with legs dangling, "Let's all be friends here. After all, he is dying."

"I don't remember inviting you to the party," Garak said.

"Of course you didn't," Jadzia Dax said, appearing by his side; kneeling and patting him on his shoulder, "And that's the whole point of your life; isn't it. You never asked. You never let anyone be a part of it."

"I asked a lot of questions," Garak responded, "But, sometimes the answer is more deadly than the question."

"No," a young woman, Ziyal, a woman he once had feelings for said, standing with phaser wound to her chest, "What's worse is not admitting to yourself what really is happening."

"I really have no time for this," Garak rolled his eyes, and weakly waved his hand, "I have things to do."

"Like what?" Tain demanded, "I had the perfect solution for destroying the Federation once and for all. But you blew my perfectly laid plans to the Federation!"

"I couldn't let you use bio-weapons on all thirty planets," Garak said, feeling a bit dizzy now, "Over seven trillion would have been lost."

"A traitor," Dukat mocked, "Right up to the end."

"You should cut your losses and save yourself," Ziyal begged, "I don't want you to die."

"Let Julian die," Dax smiled, "He is only holding you back."

"Yes," Tain goaded, "Let him die."

"Not today," Garak said, and out of a pocket in his jacket, he pulled out a gel pack.

This gel pack was a one use affair, where if something like this would happen, they could use it to seal the wound and replenish twelve percent of the blood lost. Not a permanent fix, but enough to keep someone stable for six hours. Should be enough time.

"I hope you appreciate what I am doing for you, Doctor," he said, and feeling off one side, he slapped the pack onto his cut, and immediately, the blood flow decreased to almost a trickle.

"You know what Doctor?" Garak asked, although he wouldn't get an answer, "I was trying to train you during our time together, to succeed me. I wanted your skills to become such that you could defeat any operative that came your way. That you could be the best of the best. And indeed, you helped us get out of a Jem'Hadar prison, saved Sisko, Chief O'Brian, Jadzia, Worf and Kira from that holodeck program of yours. You went toe to toe against Section 31 and won. You even were able to get the Tal Shiar on your side. You are my pupil, and you have learned your lessons well.

"There was only two possible outcomes. Either you would live and I were to die, or I would live and you would die. However, I can't beat a man who refuses to accept defeat."

Garak's eyes became heavy, and a grogginess began to come over him. He was dying, and he knew it. With his last breath, he said, "There is hope for you yet, my friend."

Then, he closed his eyes, and it all went dark.

* * *

Meanwhile, things were not doing so well on the rest of the station. Auxiliary power went off line with a hum and the backup power was barely being turned on. Captain Kira strutted around the command center, shouting out orders to the crew, which hurried to do her bidding.

Standing on the stairs was Benjamin Sisko, waiting, and watching as they scurried along. "Captain," he said, stepping forward, "with your permission, I'm going to get the runabouts out on patrol. If the Dominion doles decide to take advantage while you're working, you'll need advance warning."

"Good idea," she said, then turning towards her Chief of Operations ordered him to get the scanners up and working.

As Ben walked off the Command Center onto the turbo lift, he was joined by a human Ensign, heading off to the cargo bay to help in the rescue attempt. The ensign was extremely young, maybe twenty at most.

"Ensign," he acknowledged.

"Sir," the ensign replied with the taut stick nature of a raw cadet.

"Your name," Ben asked.

"Ensign Clark Jones," he crisply responded.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Ben's lips. "I'm not interrogating you soldier," he half chuckled, "you have to learn to lighten up. That is something you'll have to learn."

The ensign uncomfortable shifted his weight from foot to foot before asking, "May I speak freely sir?"

"Granted," Ben shrugged.

"I'm twenty-two," he said, "And I served on two ships before coming here. But, I only lasted a year on each ship before the captain booted me off. I'm not the most likeable guy. But, I want to make a good impression here sir. But, Captain Kira scares the crap out of me."

Ben smiled, "Yes, she can do that, can't she."

"I just don't know what to do about it," Jones sighed.

"Tell her," Ben said.

"No, no, I can't," Jones said horrified, color draining from his face.

"Why not?" Ben asked, not sure what to make of this ensign.

"Uh…I just can't," he said, nearly looking like he was going to faint.

"Ahhh," Ben said, realizing what was the problem, "I agree. She is unattainable. Certainly for you."

Jones eyes grew wide, "Please sir, don't tell her."

"That'll be our sec-"

_His mind flashed as he saw locusts, purple and black, surround a field of stars of blue and white. The purple locusts began to surge forward, through a small opening, ready to devour a small space station. They were so many, that he almost despaired to wonder how they could ever beat them._

_The black locusts he could hear now, sounding more machine then organic and they devoured several dung beetles that scurried to flee. They turned from black to grey; then from grey to a dark shade of green. Two hundred of them entered a swirling light that looked like watercolors splashed together._

_Then, he heard clicking, and turned, and saw a great scorpion, whipping back its tail, and he saw several stars darkened. But, as it prepared to strike, Ben could see several of the black locusts had nestled on its belly, and as it posed to strike several white ants that scurried to fend off the scorpion, the beetles transformed into a giant rat, which broke off the tail and picking up the scorpion began to gnaw it. But, a single baby scorpion escaped, where it was captured and dragged back to the ant hill._

_Then, the purple locusts, which he had turned away from, jumped on the station and began to gnaw and chew._

His mind snapped back, and the Ensign, who had just been standing there a few seconds ago, had fallen. His face was charred and his eyes had gone glassy. The ship rocked as if hit, and he tapped his comm badge.

"Report," he demanded and a reply came back, "We have nearly thirty Jem'Hadar attack fighters attacking the station."

"I'm hurrying to the hanger bay now," he said, and ran down the corridor as the ship rocked with explosions and sparks flew from walls and ceiling.

He reached the shuttle bay and headed for a runabout, jumping into the first one he saw. A lieutenant was already there, taking the com.

"Mind if I join?" he asked, and the woman turned to him and nodded.

As soon as they were cleared to leave the station, they shot off into space, and Ben could only gasp at the sheer numbers of the fighters they were facing. There was no thirty fighters. More like three hundred. And more were pouring out of the wormhole.

"It make so much more sense now," he said, "It is an invasion from the Gamma Quadrant. Round Two has begun."

* * *

Weyoun stood on the bridge of one of the Jem'Hadar attack fighters, leading the assault against Deep Space 9. It really was a shame, watching the purple plasma bolts lance out and strike against the weakened shields of the station. He had never seen it before, but, his eight predecessors had seemed genuinely concerned for the well being of the station and of Bajor. And those emotions had been carried on through him.

It really was too bad he was going to have to destroy it and everyone on board. But, the Founders wished it, and who was he to deny the wishes of the Gods?

He looked out, surveying the battle, and smirked at the six runabout, valiantly fighting against the beetle shape hulled assault ships. They did some damage, and to his surprise and delight; they had even managed to shoot down four fighters. These shuttles seemed to have some teeth, and more than willing to play the game.

"Good," he laughed, "I would hate for the game to be one-sided. First!" he said, "Send squadrons 71, 73, 44, 88, 100 and 501 to destroy those shuttles. The squadrons are to pick a single shuttle and do everything possible to destroy them before moving on to the next shuttle."

* * *

"Captain!" tactical officer Jamie Dumel shouted across Ops as another explosion erupted on the bridge, caused by part of a plasma beam getting through the shields, "We are as ready as we are going to get on this end."

"Rand?" Kira shouted as the station shook.

Her chief engineers head popped up from the lower level and said, "We aren't going to get anymore out of these babies while the Dominion is beating us up."

Kira nodded grimly. "Return fire."

* * *

Weyoun watched in amusement as the station suddenly lit up like an electrical chair. Dozens of phaser blasts and photons came flying from it, and although they were limiting their firepower to within the eight hundred kilometer distance of their damaged scanners, they still destroyed or disabled enough ships to warrant a fight.

But, Weyoun needed DS9 to fall sooner than later. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to fight, but, the station was going to have to fall and soon to enable to invasion fleet on the other side to come in safely.

"As soon as the runabouts are destroyed," he ordered, "Advance all ships against the station. Throw everything we got at them."

"No," a calm voice said beside him and he turned to see the Female Changeling at his side, "I want to give time for Odo to get off the station."

"Founder," Weyoun objected, "I was not aware Odo was on board. I thought he was still in the Link. Besides, the Founders have had enough time to flee."

"What you know is of no consequence," the Founder said with a finality that brooked no argument, "Just carry out your orders."

* * *

"I said evasive maneuvers!" Ben shouted as sparks flew from the transporter, "Not suicide maneuvers!"

"I'm doing my best," the female lieutenant snapped, "But we have a whole squadron of Jem'Hadar all locking on."

"Execute Evasive Pattern Delta 5," Ben ordered, firing a phaser at a Jem'Hadar, which avoided it with ease, "And watch your tone with me, young lady."

She threw the ship hard to starboard, rolling as they went. As they rolled, they were grazed by a plasma shot, which destroyed their inertial dampeners. Ben and the woman barely held in their seats as she whipped the back of the shuttle to port, which pointed the nose towards the wormhole.

Even then, they were greeted by the sights of six Jem'Hadar fighters, making straight for them.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered, "The warp core has been disabled. We are stuck sir."

"Let them come," Ben snarled, tapping away at the weapons in front of him, "We might have lost inertial dampeners and transporters, but I'll be hanged before I go down without a fight. All power to forward shields! Full thrusters! We're going in."

But, even as they headed straight forward, a flurry of white/orange phaser bolts lashed out, catching four of the six in a deadly accurate marksmanship. The two bolted, trying to get into a position of defense, but they were taken out by photons, which seemed to follow their every evasive maneuver and match it until they smashed into the fighters and blasted through before plowing into two more before coming to an explosive conclusion, ripping the hulls apart.

A circular ship, one that resembled the Defiant, only with a longer prow, engines underneath the ship and not behind and a command bridge that rose from the top in a small circle, flew above them, scattering the Dominion fleet.

"USS _Supreme_ to Captain Sisko," a voice came over the come, "We hope we weren't too late to join the party."

"About time!" he gladly said, "But we might need a lift."

"No problem," the man said, "Energizing you now."

But, Ben was surprised when not only he began to be transported, but the entire shuttle into the _Defiant Mark 2_. Before he even knew it, not only he but the runabout as well was now in what seemed to be a small shuttle bay.

_Oh boy_, he thought to himself, _this ship is a bit bigger then Defiant._

* * *

"Captain on the Bridge!" the tactical officer said, and Ben and the lieutenant marched onto the bridge, the bridge crew bustling with activity.

"I am Commander Henry Andrews," a giant of a human of about six foot, three inches said.

"Captain Benjamin Sisko," Ben introduced himself, "And Lieutenant Julia Fatts. I relieve you."

"I stand relieved Captain," Andrews bowed and stepped aside to a side station as Ben took his seat in the middle of the room.

"Are any other ships coming to our aide?" Ben asked, as the ship slightly shook from an impact.

"No," Andrews reported, "Our orders are to help evacuate DS9. We are to abandon the system and head for the Tyre System."

"What?!" Ben demanded.

"It has just been assigned as the fourth grouping area for Starfleet's vessels," Andrews responded.

"DS9 is of strategic importance," Ben snapped, "We need to hold this station!"

"Sorry sir," Andrews shrugged, "But, this comes straight from the Federation Council. It can't be countermanded."

"And what do you think of these orders?" Ben asked him.

Andrews closed his eyes before speaking. "It's flawed," he said slowly, "I think that something is wrong here. They shouldn't be issuing orders that will abandon nearly 98% of the Federation to our enemies."

"My thoughts exactly," Ben smiled cruelly, "Let's do as much damage as possible to the enemy. Full impulse! Throw everything we got at them!"

* * *

Weyoun was shocked at the sudden onslaught from the new vessel. It was tearing apart the invasion fleet like a fat boy at a buffet of food. The new assault had given the remaining four runabouts the boost they needed to retake the offensive, and they flanked the ship, peppering fire at the Jem'Hadar assault ship. At one point, six Jem'Hadar fighters were laying heavy fire on the new Federation vessel, but they were wiped out without so much as a scratch on the enemy.

"Order the fleet to pull back to the wormhole," the Female Changeling said, "where we shall regroup to launch a second assault. Order the weapon to deploy."

"The Founder is wise," Weyoun submitted with the adoration of a young puppy with its owner.

* * *

The fleet began to pull away, and Ben clenched his fist and air punched with his fist in victory. This ship had been put through its first test, and it had born it brilliantly. He needed tp get more of these!

"Damage report," Ben ordered.

"Shields held at 90%," the tactical officer reported, "And no damage to speak of to the ship itself."

"They'll be back," Ben snorted, "And with greater numbers. We can't hold Bajor without help."

"But," Andrews said hopefully, "at least the station is intact."

* * *

Kira wiped her lips, which were moist with sweat, causing an unpleasant scent to rise from her. They had beaten off the first assault, but, even with the new Starfleet vessel, they could not possibly hope to hold out forever.

"Open a channel to the _Supreme_," she ordered, and after a beep confirmed a channel was open, said, "Deep Space Nine to _Supreme_."

"Sisko here," Ben replied his face coming onscreen, "How are you?"

"The station has taken damage to two of the upper pylons and structural integrity is down to thirty percent," she counted off her fingers, "The shields are down to forty-three percent, main power is offline and most of our weapons systems are down."

"Will you be ready in time for their second assault wave?" Ben asked.

Kira turned to her main engineer who shook his head, "We won't stand another assault."

"That's a no," she said, "I am beginning evacuation procedures."

Ben let slip several words that he surely wouldn't have said in front of a pastor. "If we lose DS9, we can't stop the Dominion from invading."

"I don't think we have a choice," she said, and almost as if in agreement, the ship rocked as an explosion ripped from the hull in a brilliant yellow glow.

"What the heck is going on?" she ordered as another explosion ripped through the ship.

"We are being hit by shots that are out of phase with our time," her tactical officer reported, just before an explosion ripped from his console and he fell screaming, holding his face in his hands.

"Hull breaches on habitat levels 6, 7 and 8," another officer shouted as another explosion tore the hull.

"All hands!" Kira ordered over the comm system, "Abandon the station! Repeat: Abandon the station."

* * *

"Let's keep ourselves between the Dominion and the evacuees," Ben ordered, as another shot fired from just outside the wormhole. This shot sheared off the deflector array.

"Sir!" the tactical officer reported, "I have triangulated the location of the Dominion vessel."

"Where?" Ben demanded, swerving his chair around to stare at the Lieutenant Commander.

"Coordinates 03.14 by 22.83," she replied, and Ben swerved his chair around.

"Onscreen!" he ordered and the screen flicked to a Jem'Hadar ship, bigger and meaner than any other he had seen before. It was three times as large as the Jem'Hadar battleships that had participated during the Dominion War, and by the nasty looking design, it must certainly be in a heavier weight class.

"Can we get scans of the ship?" Ben asked.

"We can't penetrate the hull," the officer said, "As a matter of fact, we can't even seem to get a lock on it with our scanners. We just seem to glimpse it for a second before having to recalibrate. But, one thing is for certain. It's more powerful than anything we've ever encountered before."

"Set a course, full-impulse!" Ben ordered, "Let's see just how nasty it is."

* * *

"That ship is attempting to attack the weapon," Weyoun said in surprise as he watched the singular ship make straight for the battleship.

"Fire a triple yield from the chronitronic weapon," the Founder ordered, "Knock out their weapons."

* * *

The ship buckled and came to a dead stop. Klaxons sounded throughout the ship and Ben turned to his tactical officer. "Status," he demanded.

"They are targeting our weapons array," she reported, "But the ablative armor deflected it. We are down to fifty percent."

"That shot hit us so hard it stopped us in our tracks," Andrews added.

"Do we still have engines?" he asked as another hit threw them all out of their chairs.

"Yes sir."

"Ablative armor offline."

"We are detecting minor fractures in the hull."

"Get us moving forward," Ben shouted, "Attack Pattern Delta-Twelve!"

The ship sped off again, heading straight for the ship. The ship jerked left and right, as the automatic sensors responded to the oncoming weapons. Sure, their shields couldn't manage against the chronitronic weapons, but, they could dance around them.

Unable to lock on, the Dominion ship switched to traditional plasma blasts. They couldn't track the ship any better, but, there were more of them. So many in fact, that they would have a hard time missing the smaller vessel. But, these weapons could do little to crack the shields of the _Supreme_, which only lost ten percent of their shielding after a volley of twelve blasts hit home.

"Can't get a phaser lock," the tactical officer said in frustration.

"Switch to manual," he ordered, and soon, they were blasting away. They weren't much better than the Dominion's, but, the hits that did land home, penetrated the hull, opening up gaps.

"Sir," Andrews called out, "The Dominion fleet has come back with a vengeance."

"Has DS9 been evacuated?" Ben inquired.

At that moment, they received a transmission.

"Onscreen!"

Kira's face appeared on the screen, surrounded by both frightened people and stern looking officers. "DS9 has been evacuated," she told him, "Where do you want to meet up at?"

Ben rolled his eyes. Backwards they would go. "The Tyre System."

"Gotcha," she nodded, "Kira out."

The screen went blank, replaced by a star field. At least seventy ships were heading their way.

"Get us out of here!" he shouted as a chronitronic weapon made contact and took out their inertial dampeners, "Warp 9!"


	10. A Walk With Wisdom

**Chapter 10: A Walk With Wisdom**

"Mr. Nog," Jean-Luc called out as he walked into the engine room, "What is our status?"

"Not good sir," the short Ferangi replied, turning away from the console he was working at to look at his superior, "But better. We can do half-impulse and most of the damage to the hull has been repaired. But, the ablative armor is still offline, the warp core was fractured, and our shield emitters were shot up pretty bad. Not only that, but, I've only gotten our weapons back up to six percent."

"What's our ETA to being able to get underway?" Picard inquired, "Sela isn't going to get away with this genocide."

Nog shrugged his shoulders and said, "48 hours minimum."

"You've had eight already. You have 36," the Admiral said, "I suggest you pick up the pace."

"Sir…" Nog was going to protest, but at a sharp look from the Admiral, he slumped slightly and said, "Aye sir."

"At least you have no more explosions or sparks to deal with anymore," Picard said in a false optimism and picked his way through the debris and out of the engine room.

It was distressing for him to see the _Enterprise_ in such bad shape. He had passed two hull breaches getting to the engine room, and had been forced at times to squeeze his way through fallen bulkheads. Pieces of plasma conduits and wall lay scattered throughout the halls, and many lights flickered as they struggled to stay on.

As he walked down the hallway, he made a turn at a junction and was about to head to Ten Forward for a stiff drink when his comm link beeped. He threw up his head and closed his eyes. _What now?_

"Picard here," he said, tapping the badge.

"Admiral," Data's voice came through in it's very articulate and clear want, "You have a Priority Alpha One transmission from Starfleet."

Picard rolled his eyes. _So much for my drink. _

"Reroute it to my quarters, Data," he said.

"Very good sir," Data acknowledged, "Captain Data out."

Picard tapped his badge twice in rapid succession, then taking a deep weary breath, turned away from Ten Forward and headed for the turbo lift. It didn't take him long to get to his quarters, and as he entered the room, the console that had been built into the table had slide up. The Federation symbol was on the screen, with the words, _Incoming Transmission_ flashing on the screen.

"Open transmission," he ordered, "Authorization Picard-4-7-Alpha-Tango."

The screen flashed and he saw the face of a dignified human woman, Kathryn Janeway. Janeway, the first Starfleet officer to successfully transverse the Delta Quadrant. This call was strangely familiar with a conversation he had had with her nearly six years ago.

"Hello Janeway," he said, "Always nice to see you."

"Same to you," she smiled, her hair loose, "I hear tell you had a run in with some of our mutual friends."

"More like bumped into them," Jean-Luc gave a half smile.

"How much did the bump cost you?" she asked, "Scratched the paint off?"

"More like dented our bumper," he chuckled, "At least 36 hours of repairs."

She winced visibly at the comment. "In all seriousness," she inquired, "Once you are up and running, what are your plans?"

"With Captain Data's consensus," Picard said, "We are going after the Romulans."

"No!" Janeway sharply cut him off.

"But why?" he asked shocked, "We can't allow them to get away with the murder of seventy-five billion Klingons."

"The Federation is in no position to carry on a war with both the Romulans _and_ the Dominion," she retorted.

"The Dominion?" Picard asked, his eyes widening.

"We just received a report a couple of hours ago from the Bajoran Sector," she informed him, "Deep Space Nine has been destroyed by the Dominion. We are having all Federation vessels fall back to the build-up zones."

"That's preposterous," he snapped, "I don't need a fleet! Heck Admiral, I'll go in my personal yacht if needs be, but I am taking Sela out!"

"Orders are orders," she stared at him, "We need every Starfleet ship back."

"The Klingons are demanding us to help them or they will declare war on us!" he said, "We need to bring her to justice."

"The Federation Council has ordered the Klingons to surrender to the Romulans," she replied.

"But they are our allies!" he said, slapping his hands on the desk.

"As of 200 hours this morning, San Francisco time," she informed him, "We signed a new Declaration of Powers in the Quadrant. The Klingon Empire was official dissolved as of 200 hours."

"They have rights as a species!" he shot back.

"They are Klingons," she snapped, "They have no rights."

"But Kathryn!" he exclaimed but she held up a finger.

"Every vessel," she said, "Including your yacht. That's final. Oh, and I hear Chancellor Martok is on the _Invincible_. Order Captain Stubbs to detain him."

The screen turned off and Picard leapt up to his feet. Grabbing a glass cup from the table, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall, where it shattered and fell to the ground in a rain of tinkling glass. He went to grab a statue of Serak in his rage, lifted it to pitch it against the door, and prepared to lob it, when the door chime beeped. He stood for a second, like a man coming to his senses, looked at the statue, and grunted.

"I guess you wouldn't like that very much now, would you?" he said to the statue, placing it back onto its' shelf.

The door chimed again, and he said, "Come."

The door slid open, and a dark skinned woman, shorter then he was, wearing purple robes and a saucer shaped purple hat, that clamped most of her braided black hair in place. Picards' eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Guinan," he said, "I didn't expect you."

She took a glance at the shattered glass on the floor and said, "I can see that."

"What can I do for you?" Picard asked.

"That's what I was going to ask," she said, "I had a feeling you needed some help."

"Guidance Guinan," he replied, "I do wish I knew how you can tell such things."

"Oh," she said in her unassuming way, stepping out of the door way to let it shut, "I get hunches. And I can understand people and their moods."

"They're more than just hunches," Picard snorted, "You just seem to have some special insight to the universe that makes us mortals seem like single-celled amebas."

"Oh," she said, "I wouldn't say that. So, tell Guinan your troubles. And perhaps she can help."

Picard sighed, then remembering to be a host asked, "Forgive me. Would you like a seat?"

"This looks like it is a standup conversation," she said.

"A standup conversation?" Picard asked, intrigued.

"Some conversations are best done both standing up," she shrugged, "Some are best done with one person sitting. Some are best done both sitting. Some are best done walking. And this, seems to be a standup conversation."

Picard smiled halfheartedly. There were many things he wished to say. And Guinan would listen to all of it without question. But, he needed to stick to a certain point. No amount of listening from Guinan would change that.

"I just had a conversation with Starfleet Command," he breathed out slowly, "And now I have to make a decision. A decision which could either lead to the destruction of an entire civilization or the risk of getting not only myself, but everyone under me court-martialed."

"An interesting dilemma," Guinan agreed, "The moral choice or the ethical choice."

"What gives the Federation Council the right to play God?" he fumed, and he began to pace around the room, "What gives them the right to choose who can live or who will die? The Federation is meant to provide civility in a chaotic space, not to simply sign documents with no thoughts of the consequences. But, they speak on behalf of the Federation, Starfleet must follow them into battle, or wherever they lead."

"And where will you lead?" Guinan asked suddenly, stopping him before he could start another sentence.

"What?" Jean-Luc asked, stopping in mid pace and staring at the wall.

"Where will _you_ lead?" Guinan repeated.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not entirely sure what she was meaning.

"You have two allegiances," she said, "One to follow the orders the Federation gives you. You gave an oath to follow Starfleet, so you do it. But, you also have an allegiance to those attributes most associated with your race; doing the morally correct thing. There are times when even you have done things against orders, because you believed it to be just."

"But," he said, "If I defy these orders, it could lead to a civil war."

"I risk civil war every time I try to make a Cardassian Sunrise," she pointed out, "But, that doesn't stop me from making what the customer orders. You must choose where to make your stand, and never back down."

"But," he said, admitting it to the only person he knew he could explicitly trust, "I don't know if I have the strength anymore to fight. I feel so tired, so long have I served king and country, I don't know if I can carry on."

"That's why you have friends," she said, "And your friends would follow you straight to Hell if you ordered them too."

* * *

"Admiral," Data's voice came over the comm.

Picard awoke from his sleep and looking at the chronometer said, "It better be important Data, it's 200 hours in the morning."

"Repairs are complete and we are preparing to get underway sir," Data informed him, "What are your orders?"

"Already?" Picard asked, "Repairs were started only 30 hours ago."

"The _Titan_ pulled up alongside us and gave us assistance," Data informed him.

Picard smiled. _That is some good news. _

"I want all captains of our task force to report to the conference room in half an hour," he ordered, "And those who can't make it by then, I want them to open up a channel with the conference room at that time. Oh, and, make sure Worf and Chancellor Martok are invited."

"Very good sir, Data out."

* * *

The door slid open, and the three Federation captains stood around the conference table as Picard entered the room. William Riker of the _Titan_, newly released from the Cardassian prison system, Joshua Stubbs of the _Invincible_ and Data. The only ones who remained seated were Chancellor Martok and Ambassador Worf. Picard motioned for the men to sit.

"As of 200 hours yesterday morning," Picard said, putting his hands on the top of the chair, "The governments of the quadrant came together and officially dissolved the Klingon Empire."

Shock was evident of the faces of the men sitting around the table, and Martok slammed a fist on the table. "PetaQs!" he shouted.

"Our orders are very clear," Picard continued, "We have been ordered to clear out of Klingon space and retire to the buildup zones being created by the Federation Council. And, we are to detain you, Chancellor Martok, for who knows what. The Romulans are not to be held responsible for their attacks. No retribution."

"Your Federation Council," Martok snarled, "I always believed they were with honor. It seems I was mistaken."

"If anyone touches Chancellor Martok," Worf glared, "I will take their throats and rip it out of their esophagus."

"Let the Admiral talk," Stubbs said, "He didn't bring us all here, to trap Martok. It's not very honorable."

"Thank you," Picard said, "But not only that, but the Dominion has launched another invasion. Bajor was captured two days ago."

"What's going on?" Riker asked, "I have only been back for six days, and it seems like the Federation is being handed to Hell in a hand basket. What's happening?"

"I honestly can't say," Picard truthfully stated.

"It seems too good of timing for the Dominion to invade right as the Romulans begin to expand into the Klingon Empire," Data pointed out, "for it to be mere coincidence."

"Even before we got the news," Stubbs said, "They were creating these 'build-up zones'. Seems like someone has infiltrated the Federation Council itself."

"That's my guess," Picard said, "And as such, I am about to give orders I never thought I would give again. We are going to leave Klingon space alright. But, we are going after the Romulans. We know they are at Deep Space Seven. And we shall not detain Chancellor Martok. If any of you have an objection, say so."

"You will have a hard time," Martok said, "It's most likely a trap set up by the Romulans."

"I know it is a trap," Picard replied, "But, we cannot allow the Romulans to get away clean with their attacks. They need to know that there is still some of us from the Federation with the guts to do what is right."

"My ship was not too badly damaged," Stubbs said, "When you built the _Invincible_, you built it to last."

"The _Titan_ isn't in too good of shape," Riker replied, "but, we can provide cover fire at least."

"Three ships going into combat against an unknown, but certainly superior number of ships," Martok grinned, "A glorious battle worthy of song."

"As long as the Klingons will keep the Romulans busy here," Picard said, "I think it will work."

Worf nodded. "It will be glorious."


	11. Whispers in a Minefield

**Chapter 11: Whispers in a Minefield**

The darkness in the room was like a veil over the face of the mourning. Small lights illuminated the faces of three people, who sat at a table, set in a triangle shape. But, the lights were not enough to reveal the full faces of them, but their noses and chins were visible, with slightly their lips being revealed, the hoods over their faces making them seem like a cult of satanic worshippers.

"I am not happy with how the war has so far been conducted," one of three people sitting around a circular table said, "The Romulans moved too fast. Along with the Dominion. They struck too swift and too soon."

"The Romulans were suppose to wait until the Dominion was prepared to attack," another one of them groaned, "The timeline has been contaminated. This war isn't suppose to happen for another fifteen years."

"The Temporal Cold War has resumed," the last of them muttered, "One of the factions has initiated the war before it was time."

The other two groaned. It had been almost seventeen years since the first phase of the Temporal Cold War had started and ended. During that time, WWII had been altered, the humans left space dock six years too early, and even at one point, the future (their present) had been destroyed by a foolish maneuver. And now, they were beginning to see the patterns of the old war flare up.

"The Confederate States of America has just won the American Civil War," the first one said, "And Columbus had been killed upon his initial landing in the Americas by the natives."

"Serak's mother didn't mate during her first Pon Farr," the second one said, "she has died and Serak was never born."

"Christopher Pike has retained command of _Enterprise_," the first one informed them, "and Gary Mitchell wasn't killed after gaining his God-like powers at the edge of the Galaxy. The Federation has been overthrown and a new faction, the Galactic Order has been set up in its place."

"What is the focal point?" the third one, who obviously seemed to be the leader, asked.

"Temporal coordinates 63594.4," the second one replied, "With the Federation Admiral Jean-Luc Picard making an attack on Deep Space 7."

"No battle is suppose to take place there," he growled, "Execute Plan B."

* * *

"What's our ETA to DS7?" Picard asked, standing with folded arms on the bridge, standing next to the android.

"Two hours sir," the navigation officer said, not glancing back at the Admiral.

Picard nodded. "I'll be in Ten Forward," he informed Data, then turning on his heel left the room.

"Captain," the Bridge Science officer said as the turbo lift doors closed, her voice sounding like a question, "Can you come here a moment?"

Captain Data swung his chair around until he could bring his eyes to bear on the young woman. The woman was a Trill, enjoined, having decided to forgo becoming a Host in the hopes of joining Starfleet. Ensign Menna was the only person Data had ever sponsored to the Academy, which was probably why she had been placed on _Enterprise_. That, or the fact that she was the only Trill to have so far been at the top of her class.

"What is it Ensign?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she said, looking at her console screen in frustration, "I can't identify it."

"Steady Ensign," the android said, rising from his sitting position, "I'll be more than happy to check it out."

The woman visibly sighed in relief, sure, she had been top of her class, but, she hated not knowing things. Data strode across the bridge to her side and glanced at the screen. Indeed, even as his billions per second calculation brain was absorbing the information, the space time continuum was going erratic. He put his finger to be console and typed in a few commands and a set of coordinates appeared on the screen.

"Intriguing," he muttered, then tapping his comm said, "Data to Admiral Picard."

There was a pause before Picard replied, "Go ahead."

"There seems to be a temporal rift forming in the turbo lift you are currently occupying," he said, "I would advise you leave the turbo lift."

"Good idea Data," Picard agreed, "I'll make an emergency stop at the next de-"

In mid sentence his voice cut off and Data after an uncomfortable second said, "Admiral…Sir, respond. Admiral, can you hear me?"

* * *

Picard stood alone in a corridor, the roof barely over his head. The corridor was metallic and grey. Lights from the bottom and top corners illuminated the hallway.

"What the crap?" he muttered, "Where am I?"

"Come now Jean-Luc," a voice behind him tisked, "Do you not remember this ship? You walked through its corridors in the Fleet Museum in Sidney."

He turned and saw a man, perhaps five foot ten tall standing there, wearing a ridiculous suit of black leather and what looked like cords running like veins over the outside of the suit. The man had close shaved black hair, and a crooked nose. But, Picard couldn't put his finger on who this man was.

"The _Enterprise _NX-01?" he asked and the man nodded his head.

"Very good," he smiled.

"I have no time for this ridiculous game," he snapped, "I have no time to be in a museum 150 light-years from my previous location."

"Actually," the man said, "you are only 100 light-years from your previous location, and this is no museum."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, "It's been in the mothball fleet for nearly 225 years."

"That's right," the man said, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Who are you?" Picard asked, realization finally dawning on him, "Why did you bring me here? What's the date?"

"The year is 2152," the man explained, taking a step towards Picard, "And on this particular day, Starfleet first meet the Romulans in a minefield around a planet. At this moment Lieutenant Malcolm Reed and Captain Jonathon Archer are on the hull trying to defuse a mine that had attached itself onto the hull."

Picard's eyes widened, and he said, "You're the Time-Traveler. Davey, correct?"

"Daniels," Daniels corrected.

"What are you doing messing with me?" he inquired, "If I remember my history correctly, you were going to leave _Enterprise_ alone."

"You forget Admiral," Daniels said, holding up a finger, "I made that promise 235 years, eight ships and thirteen captains ago. That promise doesn't apply with the current _Enterprise_ and it's Captain."

"Data's the captain," Picard corrected at which Daniels rolled his eyes, "I thought you…Temporal Agents or whatever…know the past."

"You forget. Once a captain of _Enterprise_," Daniels retorted, "Always a captain of _Enterprise_. And besides that, you're comparing us to an H.G. Wells novel. We monitor the significant events of the timeline. Not the nitty-gritty footnotes."

Picard sighed. He had no time for this. Besides, Daniels seemed like a punk kid to him. Why else would he have had the audacity to call Jean-Luc Picard, hero of a Borg Invasion, one of the most decorated Starfleet officers in history, a _footnote_?

"I would love to stay and chat," Picard lied, "But, I have a battle that I have to lead in less than 4 hours."

"That's what I need to talk to you about," Daniels said, "Do not go to Deep Space 7."

"Why not?" Picard asked in contempt of the man, "Will something bad happen?"

"Actually," Daniels said, quiet seriously, "It will."

"May I ask what?" Picard asked, losing patience very fast.

"Come," Daniels said, stretching out his hand, "There's a room where we can talk and we won't contaminate the timeline anymore then we absolutely have to. And I promise to explain everything to you."

Picard sighed and grabbing Daniels hand, Daniels made straight for the wall and to Picard's shock and surprise, Daniels began to pass right through it. Picard hoped Daniels knew what he was doing as he approached the wall. Picard's closed his eyes tightly until he felt the wall pull around him as he walked through.

Picard opened an eye, and seeing he was in one piece still, noticed they were in a small room with pipes and conduits running through it. If Picard's memory served correctly, Jonathon Archer and a man named Silik had fought in this small room, which was more like a junction for power conduits then a real room. Daniels let go of Picard's hand, a clear sign this was where he intended to talk. Which Picard actually didn't much care for; the room was actually pretty warm.

"Alright," Picard demanded, "What's this all about?"

"What do you know about me?" Daniels asked, "Or more specifically, what my…agency…does."

"You claim to maintain the timeline," Picard answered, "You stop it from being tampered with."

"That's what is going on," Daniels said.

"What?" Picard asked.

"You might have heard of the Temporal Cold War," Daniels said, "Where different time-traveling factions started messing with the timeline. Trying to change it to suit their own ends."

"I heard of it," he acknowledged.

"That war had many fronts," the younger man said, "and even when it came to an end, it was more of a truce then a full-fledged end-game."

"Get to the point," Picard snapped.

"The point is," Daniels said, "We have no idea how this war is going to end."

"I thought you maintained the timeline and you know these things," the Admiral snorted.

"Don't you get it?" Daniels asked, "The reason we don't know is History doesn't record a 2385 Trans-Galactic War."

Picard looked up at Daniels, for the first time interested. "Are you saying," Picard said slowly, "This war wasn't suppose to take place?"

"Not until 2411," the man said, "That war was going to be fought between several different alliances. The Borg were going to be one side, the Federation, the Klingons, the Romulans and the Cardassians were going to be on one side and the Dominion, Ferengi and Species 8472 were going to be a third side."

"Sounds serious," Picard said, "That's going to happen then?"

"Was going to," Daniels corrected, "But, this war could change everything."

"What does any of this have to do with Deep Space Seven?" Picard asked.

"We know a few things for certain," Daniels explained, "And one of them is you."

"Me?" Picard asked.

"You are the most important element of this war," Daniels explained, "We are certain that if you are ever killed, the Federation will fall. And the chances of you dying at DS7 is 88%."

"I'm flattered history values me so much," Picard said without conviction, "But, it would appear that even with me, the Federation is going to fall."

"The other thing we know," Daniels said, "is one of the factions is manipulating this war. They are manipulating the Anglarsiss…"

"Who?" Picard interrupted.

Daniels eyes widened, "I forgot. You don't know yet. But, it can't hurt can it? That is the name Species 8472 as you call them, have given to themselves. It translates as, "The Pure" in our language. Anyways, Species 8472 is manipulating the Borg and Dominion and the Federation. The Borg and the Dominion are manipulating the Romulans and the Cardassians and the Federation."

"Wait, wait," Picard said, feeling dizzy just listening to him, "How do you keep all this straight?"

"Lots of practice," Daniels said.

"You said the Federation is being manipulated by Species 8472, the Dominion and the Borg," Picard said, "How?"

"The Dominion has replaced many on the Federation Council," Daniels said, "And, most of the Admiralty has been replaced by Species 8472. The Borg are causing disruptions in the work of many liberated drones."

"How did Species 8472 infiltrate the Admiralty?" Picard asked, "I know that the shape shifters can do just about anything the f- they want. But, how did Species 8472 get in here?"

"Think about it Admiral," Daniels raised his eyebrows, "Do you really think Janeway and her crew magically just came across transwarp conduits that just happened to lead straight to Earth? You were once Borg. You know if they had such a conduit, they would have already used it to assimilate Earth by now, instead of transverse the entire length of the Federation to reach Earth. It's not efficient. And running the gauntlet between something like forty Borg cubes with an _Intrepid_-Class and destroying quite a few of them as they went?"

"I have always thought it very interesting," Picard muttered.

"11 years ago," Daniels said, "The _Voyager_ crew came across Terrasphere 8, one of a dozen terraspheres built by the Anglarsiss to train their people how to live in Alpha Quadrant bodies convincingly enough to pass as true Federation citizens. After a tense few days, Janeway and her crew were invited onto the sphere. While there, their molecular structures were all scanned, and clones were created of them after they had left. These clones were made so perfectly that they have no idea they are clones, but they had implanted on their DNA certain codes that forced them to do anything that would be beneficial for Species 8472 when they decide to launch an all-out invasion of the Federation, which 8472 has decided is the greatest threat they have ever encountered.

"Admiral, it wasn't Janeway that returned from the Delta Quadrant. It was a doppelganger."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "If so," he asked, "Why was the Midas Array taken offline the very next day they arrived?"

"How else were they going to keep the real _Voyager_ from contacting Earth and blowing their cover?" Daniels shot back.

"So," Picard rolled his eyes, "Why shouldn't I go after the Romulans?"

"If you go," Daniels said, "In your current state, every one of you will die. And if you all die, the Federation will destroy itself."

"How?" Picard snapped, slapping his hand down on his knee, startling the man, "How da-? You won't give me a good enough reason why."

"Do you think every officer in Starfleet is happy about what's happening?" Daniels put it to him, "They're not. But, they aren't organized either. It's only a matter of time before shooting breaks out."

The room seemed to darken. Picard didn't like where this was going. WHat he was talking about was conspiracy and dark plots.

"You mean civil war," he said, "The Federation has never had a civil war. Heck, there are only five recorded mutinies in the entire history of the Fleet. I don't like this type of talk. We might be able to resolve it peacefully."

"Picard," Daniels said, becoming frustrated, "Do you really think your disobeying orders will be looked on kindly? Believe me, it won't be long before the Federation starts hunting you down. Civil war is an inevitability at this point. All you can do now is choose what state of affairs the Federation will be in at the end. Believe me, none of these disgruntled commanders will rally around anyone but you. Imagine what it will be like if they don't rally."

"The Fleet would splinter into many different factions," Picard sighed.

"And then any one of your enemies could swoop in once the shattered remnants of your Fleet have stopped shooting," Daniels agreed, "And nothing could stop them. But, with you at the helm, only two Fleets would arise, and many would defect to you because of who you are."

Picard leaned back and felt as if the weight of the whole quadrant lay on his shoulders.


	12. From the Unknown

**Chapter 12: From the Unknown**

_And in those hours following the Time Travelers departure, Picard the Resurrected called together his masters of war, Riker the Number-One and Data the Deathless. And there, in the closed rooms of the spaceship the Enterprise, the plans of war were laid. - The Book of the Federation, The Book of Picard, _Chapter XIIX, Verse 9

"Wait, wait, wait," Riker said, his beard doing nothing to shield the effort he was putting into keeping a composed state, "Admiral, the man is obviously lying."

"I concur," Data put in, "We cannot trust this man's integrity."

"So what if he claims he's from the future?" Riker asked, "How do we know that's not a lie? If he's from the Temporal Agency, is not this changing the timeline, breaking their most sacred law?"

"I was there, Riker," Picard replied, "I was on the NX-01. I went back in time."

Data's eyebrows and head lowered in the androids predictable way when he was trying to wrap his head around something he did not totally comprehend. Even with his emotion chip, it still didn't given him the ability to comprehend all things.

"While any story about time traveling is improbably," he said, then raised his eyebrows which had the effect of making him look like a ridiculous clown, "It of course can be accurate."

Picard sighed and leaned back in his chair. He could see the skepticism of Riker, his most trusted companion of so many years. And the wonder of Data, the one he could never doubt his word. But, he needed more than that now.

"Let's assume for a moment," Picard said, "For the sake of argument, that he was not from the future. However, he said one thing that is most certainly true. We need more firepower and men if we are going to attack Deep Space 7."

"That is a logical statement," Data nodded slowly.

"They probably have so many ships there right now," Riker grumbled, "That they could tear us to pieces when we arrive."

"My thoughts exactly," Picard said, "Sela is after me. This is between me and her. She is consumed with hatred against me for what I did way back in '68."

"To be more precise," Data said, "It was me. If I had not disobeyed your orders…."

"Data," Riker snapped, "Shut up."

"If I may remind you, Captain Riker," Data said, turning his lime-green eyes to the Riker, "As you do not outrank me…."

"Data," Picard said with a roll of his eyes.

"Yes sir?" Data asked.

"Shut up," Picard sighed with a shake of his head.

"Yes sir," Data said, then slumped slightly back in chair.

"Anyways," Picard went on, "We will need to get more troops."

"But how?" Riker asked, "Starfleet Command has all Starfleet vessels wrapped up tight. And the Klingons just lost 77% of their military, with all but one of their military installations knocked out."

"Ah," Picard held up a finger, "Your correct. Starfleet has all _Starfleet_ vessels wrapped up tight."

"Captain Riker has pointed out that the Klingons are in no position to carry out anything offensive in nature," Data asked, not understanding, "And the Dominion it would appear wouldn't be willing to help us out."

"I'm not thinking of either one," the bald man stated.

"Then who?" Riker asked, but all Picard did was tap the edge of his nose with his finger knowingly.

* * *

"Anyone who looks at the statistics can see what I am saying is true," the Vulcan said, standing with hands clasped behind his back, looking at Councilmember Karl Blaton, from Mars, "You need to allow me to increase the recruitment to my branch of the military."

"You have presented powerful evidence to back up your claims," the man, who looked as if he had never worked a day in his life agreed, leaning back with his hands laying on his wide girth, "But, like they said in committee, we have no need to increase the size of the MACOs. As a matter of fact, we are even dismantling the Borg Defense Force."

"That would be a tactical error," the Vulcan replied, "And to think otherwise is both delusional and idiotic. If the Borg do return, you know that the MACO and BDF are the only two organizations they can't adapt too."

"Why?" Blaton asked, blinking at him, "Because you despise Starfleet? You are better trained? Is that it?"

"No sir," he replied, glad the human couldn't see him tightening his fists behind him, "The Borg adapt to energy weapons. You know we don't use them. They can't adapt to what they can't assimilate. And may I remind you that the Borg have never assimilated a MACO before?"

"Because your superior?" the politician snorted.

"No," came the sharp response, "Because of the fact that the Federation Council has never let us fight the Borg. The only action we have seen since the Romulan War was a singular action during the Klingon War right before the Dominion War. And even then, reports mention only 'ground troops'. That and minor actions in the Sol System."

"General Servak," Blaten sighed, rising up his girth from his chair and waddling over to him, "Please believe me, we are all grateful for the assistance the MACO's provide. But, the Council has voted down your petition. No more can be done or said on the matter. Why don't you go home to Vulcan? Get some rest."

The man had put his hand on the General's shoulder and was steering him towards the door. How he really wanted to Deathgrip the man. But, Servak knew that this meeting was over.

"I won't go back to Vulcan," he replied, "I am going to keep my men ready for anything."

"Suit yourself," Blaten shrugged as he opened the door and pushed Servak out before closing the door.

Servak could hear the Council member snort behind the door and say, 'What a waste of my time."

Servak, feeling heat rise to his face, marched over to a picture and taking his fist smashed the glass out, causing the picture to fall. Then, turning down the hall, and feeling a little better, marched down the hall towards the exit. It wasn't until he reached the door that he noticed his young aide, a Terran by the name of, coincidentally, Private First Class Terran Viler.

It was night in San Francisco, and Servak glanced at young couples walking around the streets, love struck. _Like a bunch of rabid targs,_ he rolled his eyes, and began to head towards his apartment, near the beach. He might be an emotional driven Vulcan, with a goatee and buzzed hair, but, he was no fool when it came to love. Besides, his next _Pon Farr _wasn't even going to happen for another year.

One thing he enjoyed about this city was the night. There was little that he couldn't hear. Jazz music coming from restaurants, lovers speaking sweet nothing to each other, occasional shouts. The waves of the ocean splashing onto the shore. The seagulls crying.

Ahhh. The seagulls. Something about them helped him center his thoughts and emotions. Retain the balance between logic and emotion.

His commbadge beeped and glancing at his aide, groaned, "What now?"

"Perhaps the President has finally found out he's actually a woman and not a man," the Private said, but at a stern glance from his superior, hung his head.

"Servak here," he said as he tapped the badge.

"Sorry to disturb you sir," the voice of his XO, an Andorain called Skarg came through, "But, you have a call from Admiral Picard."

"Don't worry about it," he said, "Just got done with a fat human. Put it through to my quarters. I'll transport over there now."

"Uhh, sir?" Skrag's voice came through.

"I've been meaning to try out my new little toy," he said, pulling out of his pocket a small personal transporter device.

"Yes sir," Skarg said, not sure what he meant exactly, "Skrag out."

The comm beeped off, and Servak turned to his aide, held up the device, and pushing the flashing button that would transport himself and quoting his favorite human movie, _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_, said, "Sorry, Gertrude. Phone Call."

He rematerialized in his quarters, and turning on his heel, marched towards his counsel, which was plastered with the all mighty Starfleet emblem, bent over to push the button which would open the channel. Then, like a freakish nightmare that only a ground-pounder could appreciate, a bald-headed human Starfleet Captain appeared on his screen.

"Servak," Picard smiled, "How long has it been?"

"A long time Admiral," Servak said, "And a lot longer too if you would keep your shiny bald head in your job."

"As if the Pointy Ear does his own job," Picard said, "Or do I have to start naming off times you decided to have a good time or mooned the Vulcan Ambassador?"

"Fair enough," Servak shrugged with a small smile, "What can I do for the Hero of Wolf 359?"

"How would you like to get your fat lazy arse off your chair and do some real work for a change?" he asked.

"I'll get back to you on it," he said with a shrug, and pushing a button, closed the channel.

"I might not yet be in Pon Farr," he smiled, "But, my Lady in Red is waiting for me."

* * *

Servak marched up to the oaken door, down the same path he had beaten ninety-seven times to be exact. There was old Mrs. Trussel, carrying her equally old cat in her arms to her apartment. The old woman threw him the usual nasty glance, muttering to herself, but he could plainly hear it "Filthy Vulcan." But, it was worth having to face her suspicious ways, and pushing the door chime heard a woman's voice shout out, "Wait a minute!"

"Hurry up woman!" he called back, "The night is young, and we need to get busy, if you get my meaning."

The old woman's eyes grew wide as her mind began to piece the words together, and hobbling into her apartment, slammed the door shut and soon he could hear the locking mechanism engage. He closed his eyes and smiled at his sweet victory over the old hag. He wouldn't care, but, she was the kind of woman who would sneak up on peoples doors and eavesdrop on their conversations, then turn around and gossip about what she had learned.

The door soon opened, and in front of him was a tall woman, half a head taller than himself. Indeed, she was wearing a red dress tonight, one that was flattering to her slim figure. Around her neck she had a yellow scarf, tied off around the neck. Her red hair was tied back in a pony tail, and it fell to the small of her back.

"Servak," she said, her cool blue eyes seeming to pierce his very soul as she slithered her arm around Servaks' clamping just above the elbow which he held as a human suitor would, "How are you tonight, my love?"

"I am doing quite well," he said, waiting as she closed the door and locked it behind her, "Rebecca, why are you locking your apartment?"

"Mrs. Trussel broke into my apartment the other night and made off with the pictures from the County Fair in Idaho," she said, referring to their first meeting two years ago at the Blackfoot County Fair in the state of Idaho.

"You know," he said, jerking his head in the direction of Mrs. Trussels, "My boys have been needing to practice house to house combat for a while. If you need me to, I will surely give her a visit."

She chuckled slightly but clutched her mouth in horror at the dead seriousness on his face. "No!" she said, "Servak, we don't need you barging into people's houses and gun them down whenever they pester me."

"I would have spared the cat," Servak shrugged, "I've been meaning to give my XO a birthday present anyways. I hear the Andorians find them a delicacy."

"Servak," she warned, gripping his with her fingernails, but that only caused the Vulcan to laugh.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You are so easy," he said, "Do you really think I would break into an elderly ladies home and blow them away? I'm sure God would not appreciate that at Judgment day."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Of all the people I could have fallen in love with," she said in annoyance, "Why was it the only Vulcan that jokes around and believes in God?"

"I'm irresistible," he prompted, and he began to walk her down the hallway, "But, I'm serious about the cat. All of God's creations look best next to mashed potatoes and gravy."

* * *

"Ah," the waiter, a young man of maybe no more than twenty-three said, walking up to the couple as they sat down at the table, "If it isn't General Servak and his lady too."

Servak held a finger, "Uh uhn."

"I almost forgot," the waiter gently smacked his forehead with his palm, correcting himself, "If it isn't the Lady Rebecca and her General too."

"How can you almost forget how to address us Mr. Alfred?" Servak raised an eyebrow, "We have been coming here the same day of the week and the same hour for a year now. If you are wanting into Starfleet, you better get your mind straightened out."

"Really?" Alfred asked his eyes widening, "You've decided if you are going to sponsor me for the Academy?"

"I still have to give it some thought," Servak replied, "I come to eat at the restaurant that you work at because I like the food and company. You have waited my table every evening we've been here. Heck, I've even called you a son Alfred, and this is how you repay me? To spit in my face and go join the Squids? You should join us Bulldogs, but, _nooo_, you've got to go on some crazy star trek."

Alfred's eyes had widened even further, to the point his eyeballs seriously looked like they could pop out at any moment, "You mean it? You've called me your son?"

"Of course not," he snorted, "So, tell me Alfred. Do they have the rattlesnake for the special tonight?"

"Just like you requested," Alfred said, looking a bit in the dumps after that shutdown by the General.

"Then snap to and get us it," he snapped his fingers and Alfred walked off, his shoulders a couple of centimeters drooping.

"Servak," she said, poking him slightly, "That was really mean of you."

"He'll get over it," he shrugged, "He's a good kid."

* * *

The door to the restaurant flung open, and a man flew past the door ushers who were too surprised by him to stop hi, and into the main restaurant. His face was beaten and bloody, blood streaming down his nose and onto his lips. His eyes were nearly swollen shut. His shoulder was torn open by what looked like a phaser blast. He wildly looked around and his eyes lingered on Servak, who was holding a woman's hand in a booth in the corner.

He staggered forward but didn't even reach the table before he collapsed face first onto the ground. Servak, having heard with his sensitive hearing the commotion, had turned his head to see the man, who wore the green and black suits of the Borg Defense Force. He jumped up and leaning over to pick up the man, turned him over and seeing his face, frowned.

"Commander Stone," he called him, and when the man didn't immediately respond, grabbed his cup of white wine and poured it onto his face, "Commander Stone."

"Ser-ser-Servak," he gasped weakly, "Thank Heavens I fou-found you."

"What happened?" he asked.

"They're coming for us," Stone said, his eyes swelling shut completely now.

"Who?" he asked, shaking him slightly.

Stone grabbed him weakly by the shoulder and pulled him close to his mouth and he whispered, "She's dis-solved the MACO's and-and-and the Borg Defense Force. Claims we are a-threat to her. She's given orders to have us hunt-ed down and kil-led."

"Who has?" he said, shaking him again, "Whose dissolved us?"

"Jane-way," he gasped before lapsing into unconsciousness.

"Is he-dead?" Alfred asked, hurrying over to his side.

"No," Servak breathed in deeply, almost too shocked to say anything, "He's just unconscious."

"Good grief," the head chef, a human by the name of Saul said, "That's no good Mr. Vulcan."

"Let's get out of here, Servak," Rebecca said, pulling at his arm, "Before they come."

"You're right, my dear," he said, then looking up at Alfred said, "Saul, you haven't seen us. You got that."

"Righto, Mr. Vulcan," he nodded his head vigorously, "Go out the back door."

"Don't you have a transporter device on you?" Rebecca asked.

"It's only able to do a single person," he shook his head, "And we got to carry Stone."

He stood up, and with his great Vulcan strength, slung him over his back like a sack of potatoes and nodding to Saul and Alfred hurried out of the door, Rebecca trying to keep up with her high heels.


End file.
